Enemy Within
by wondertross
Summary: NOT! a Legomance, promise! Saruman seeks to destroy the company from within. What is his plan? And what is the price of betrayal? Will Legolas really kill........Aragorn?
1. Default Chapter

Title: Friendly Deceit   
  
A/N: LotR story, my first. What if Saruman got hold of a member of the Fellowship and uh....well, you'll find out. Set in the time of the Two Towers, before Pippin/merry and Trebeard ransack it. I may take a few small liberties with time, but hopefully nothing to bad  
  
Disclaimer: I own none, damn it, just Dani.  
  
~*~  
  
The night air was stagnant, the moon but half full and shrouded by a single cloud. The only light was that cast by the stars, shimmering weakly down upon the watchtowers of Edoras in the Kingdom of Rohan. There, on the wide shelf before the towering doors of the great hall, peering keenly out over the flatlands stood a lone figure. His startling blue eyes seemed to capture the glittering of the lights in the sky. Long blonde hair draped past lean shoulders, swallowed then by the fabric of the elven cloak he bore.   
  
He stood quite still, as if a statue. His lips were pressed thin as if he were troubled, though his fair features remained passive. The night had not long been on the lands, the darkness just settling fully, though most of his company lay asleep inside. The small band, two men, an elf and a dwarf had arrived that afternoon, after many a long and sleepless day of travel.   
  
Aragorn and Gimli were made of stouter things than most, but even their stamina could not forever hold. And Gandalf, the white wizard rested among them, the toll of flinging Saruman from the King's body telling on the increased stoop of his long frame. Yes, they all deserved an eve of respite, a night where none were held to watch and sleep came easy. His friends might not have taken rest at all, but Theodin's grief was new, and no other thoughts would enter his conscious that night. There would have been no point in taking council with the ruler of Rohan.  
  
Still, Legolas was restless. He'd become accustomed to the wearisome journey, running leagues upon leagues with little or no rest. So to suddenly halt and be told to wait patiently vexed him. He preferred action to stillness, though he knew soon action would come upon him like a wave. Theodin needed to act, and act soon for his Kingdom would shortly be under siege. he knew the loss of a son was a grievous one, but his head told him the time for mourning was not now. Hopefully, Aragorn could make the King see his dire straits and action would come to him again.  
  
He grew tired then of staring into the darkness. A few of the Rohhirim's horses grazed in the pastures below the city, but that was all his elf eye could see. He turned, cloak billowing behind him, and descended the stairs away from the palace. Lights burning in the stable on the level below beckoned him.  
  
The light of the torches flickered, casting rippling waves of shadow upon the hides of the horses that rested inside. Shadowfax dozed fitfully in the largest stall at the end of the aisle. Arod, his own mount, smaller and slightly stockier than the wizard's horse, occupied the stall next to him. The gray, now aware of Legolas drew his head over the stall door into the aisle. He tossed his head as if beckoning him nearer. Legolas smiled and complied, examining briefly the other horses in the barn.  
  
The King's mount, a heavy muscled gray watched the elf wander down the aisle. A long scar traced over his shoulder to the front of his chest. The wound was old and long healed, and the animal seemed to bear it almost proudly. Beside him was a bay mare, taller, but far lighter. He passed three more grays of varying shades, another bay and a chestnut before reaching Hasufel, the horse loaned to Aragorn. He shifted in his slumber but did not wake. Arod struck out at his stall door with a loud crack, impatient for the attention he demanded. Legolas complied, rubbing the horse's face and speaking to him softly in Elvish.  
  
His sharp ears picked up the sound of footfalls outside moving toward the stable yard. He receded back into the shadows, where the light of the torches did not reach. The figure entered slowly, cloak and hood drawn up, concealing their identity. "hello?" The figure drew a long knife from his belt and took one of the torches from the wall. "You should not be here. After night falls only a call to arms allows any in the stables." No response. "It is useless to hide from me, I know you're here. The horses tell me so." The figure came forward, shoving the torch into all the dark corners of the stable, peering carefully into each stall as they passed.  
  
Legolas moved swiftly, and lightly, as elves tend to do and no sound he made to betray him. He passed the figure and only the rippling of the air around him gave him away. The figure sucked in a breath and spun, clutching the hilt of the blade tighter. Legolas, despite himself, was finding this amusing. "Come out now, or I'll stick you. Then cute off your tongue so that you might never be troubled to answer another question ever again." Legolas chuckled. "You would laugh at me? Come out, or I'll raise alarm and the whole of Rohan's guard will fall upon you."  
  
"That," the blonde uttered slowly, "is not necessary." 'The men of Rohan need be braver,' he thought, 'if they are to take on the Dark Lord.' Another rippling of wind and the torch blew out and someone pulled back the hood of the figure's cloak. If the elf was at all surprised, it did not register on his face. "Ah, now I see your true self."  
  
"Really?" the voice wavered a little. "I still do not see you. Come out into the light where my good eye can see."   
  
Legolas finally did as was asked of him. He stepped out into the light, hands clasped before him. "Satisfied, milady?" He asked, a small smirk rising at the edge of his lip.  
  
"Oh," came the surprised response. "You are one of the travelers that arrived today, the ones that brought Arod, Hasufel and Shadowfax back to us. Are you not?" Despite the recognition she gave, her defenses did not fall, the point of her knife still aimed at him. Amusing indeed.  
  
"Yes, I suppose we could be seen as deliverers of horses. Though we bring with us other tidings as well, tidings of great import to your lord. Now, lady, would you please step into the light. Though mine eyes can see you, I would prefer not to speak to shadows."   
  
She stepped forward, but stayed out of the arm reach of the elf. Her hand lowered the knife, but did not sheath it. The flames lit her hair, color of neither the fair blonde of typical Rohan nor the raven of the men of Gondor. it was somewhere between, the color of dark honey and hung light and straight below her shoulders. Soft, full lips were pursed angrily, her firm jaw set. One eye was a deep emerald green. The other might have been, but it was difficult to distinguish beneath the hazy blue cloud that lay over it. A scar, some three inches long ran through her eyebrow, over her eyelid and ended just below it.  
  
"You look upon my eyes stranger. Be that it is only one eye, and the weaker I still see shadows from yet. Does my blindness surprise you?" she asked coldly.   
  
"No," he responded. "Merely your boldness. I had thought perhaps Lady Eowyn was alone in her oddity, but it seems now that perhaps many of the women of Rohan have fighting hearts." He tilted his head as if to scrutinize her further. Her plain blue dress was that of the commoner style, and her hands were calloused. "What be your name milady?"  
  
"You are the stranger here, you should answer that first. Who are you that disturbs my horses in their slumber?"  
  
"Your horses?" the elf chuckled again. "Now your boldness goes too far."  
  
"Many of these are the horses of the Eastern-mark and I raised them myself. Now I care for them here, including Eomer and Theodins' personal mounts. it is my duty not to let them be disturbed. Now speak and tell me who your are."  
  
He laid one hand across his chest. "I am Legolas, son of Thranduin the King of Mirkwood. And you?"  
  
"Danuriel, daughter of the herd-breeder Daniel of the Eastern-mark, keeper of the mounts of the Rohirrim."   
  
"Well then, now that introductions are over, and you know both my name and my business would you not sheath your dagger? Or do you still hold me an my company with distrust?"  
  
"I do not yet know what to make of you or the company you keep. You've been here not a day and suck a judgment would seem made in haste. I've no experience with dwarves or elves. And truthfully I am wary of those with the types of gifts your Gandalf possesses. It would seem easy to be tempted, corrupted by such power, and turn foul what once was fair. Is not Saruman proof enough of that? I was present in the hall when your band came, and before the wrath of the wizard I did fear for Theodin. Though it seems the beast that held him was slain, or at least sent away, perhaps there are more tricks still that Gandalf lay upon him? Who am I to know? But still, Theodin and his kin are as family to me, and I would be loathe to see them harmed."  
  
Blue eyes glimmered faintly. "You have many thoughts and answer my question with many of your own. I see that your heart speaks truly. Do you have no answer for me though?"  
  
"Give me but a day or two, so that I may further decide for myself your intentions. I would also take council with my lady Eowyn and see what thinks. Then perhaps I could answer your question more surely, and with shorter breath."  
  
"All is well then, for you shall have your day. Though to hasten your inner search, I say now that we bear no ill will to those of Rohan. Gandalf may seem terrible in his wrath but I assure you his measures are always for good. he would not be easily tempted or swayed by dark things. You seem quite close to those that reside in the palace. So what do you know of our band of men, and dwarf and elf? What do you know of our tidings Lady Danuriel?"  
  
Green eyes cast themselves quickly to the stone floor. "I am no lady, just a servant to my lords. And please, all others call me Dani, and I would have you do as well. Danuriel is too much a mouthful. As for what I know about elves and dwarves, only what I have heard in stories and song. Though I would say I do know that you are older than you appear. All that tells me of your age are your eyes. They are far too quiet and wise for a man of your seeming years."  
  
"And our tidings?" Her good eye darkened.  
  
"You bring with you dark news. Evil grows in the land of Mordor. That is all I know, but my heart tells me you speak the truth, as I fear that a dark time nears. Orcs and Huruk-hai from Isengard lurk on our borders. The forest is uneasy and the horses will not long rest beside the tree line. Your tidings leave me with a heavy heart. We shall have to fight."   
  
Her eyes lifted to meet his as if in question. Legolas nodded slowly. "The darkness is gathering. War is near. Would you stand also, beside your kinsmen? Are you a warrioress, liken to Eowyn?"  
  
"No," she replied seriously with a shake of her head. "I am fair with a blade and better with a bow, but not a warrior. My father taught me many years hence to hunt with a long bow. And the words milady speaks often ring true in my ears. Women may fall beneath the sword too, so she has been teaching me some skills with a sword. But I would dare not face Eowyn in open battle. her skill with a blade rivals any in the land, even Eomer. That said, I will fight if the need arises, for those I love. I should rather die spilling the blood of Orcs than live to be an old maid, knowing I could have saved even one life. I would stand with my lady, with my King."  
  
Legolas regarded her curiously. "May I ask but one more question? I dare say it is a broad one, and may take a long breath to answer, but answer it fully, if at all. How is it you came to be here? How do you have councils with the lady and trust of Theodin? You speak words of loyalty to a King, but your voice holds them closer."  
  
"To be quite fair, that is three questions, not one, but I shall answer just the same. I owe my life to the Rohirrim. My mother died at my birth, leaving me only with my father. He was long in the service of Rohan, a herd-breeder in the Eastern-mark in the days of Eomund. That is where I grew up, not behind city walls, but under the lights of the stars. They were wandering days, but I was not lonely for I had my father and the horses. I was ten when the Orcs struck us in the night."   
  
She turned aside from him then, and though her words continued she seemed as if in a dream. Her eyes flickered, seeking long held memories. "My father and his men trie to push them back, but the Orcs were too strong and too many. Before he was cut down, my father sent me running for the herd. They took three of our finest colts, fresh from suckling at their dams' side. The three were as black as the starless night sky. They were Valhol, Valdier and Valherol, each by Valduriel, our finest stallion."  
  
"I ran as swiftly as I was able, for the horses would not let harm befall me if they could. I was almost to them when the arrow pierced my shoulder and I fell. I still remember the foul odor of that thing standing over me. I screamed when I saw the flash of his blade. Then there was a pain and I do not remember much else but the sound of hoofbeats. When I awoke my eye burned, the Orc was trampled and Valhuriel lay dead beside me. The horses stayed with me many hours, a night and a day I should think." She nodded to Legolas' chosen gray. "Arod's dam was among them."  
  
"I was well on my way to death when Eomer found me. He brought me back to Edoras. It was then, while my wounds healed that I formed friendship with Eomer and Eowyn. I had no other family and they took me in and have kept me in work and good circumstance for many years. Was that the answer you sought?"  
  
"It is. Now, the night has grown deep indeed as we have stood here talking. You must need of sleep before the moon wanes and the sun rises. And I, should like to ride this fine night. If, of course, that suits the keeper of these stables."  
  
Dani lifted an eyebrow. "I shall give you benefit of the doubt and believe that you do not mock me. Ride, if you must. Take Arod. Even if you ride again tomorrow he will bear you swiftly and without tire. Now I bid you good night Legolas the Elf."  
  
"Till the morrow Danuriel of Rohan. May then you take council with Eowyn and decide if we be friend or foe." The girl departed with the quickest of smiles and Legolas turned his attention back to Arod. He merely opened the stall door and leapt nimbly up onto the horse's stout gray back. He sat lightly and urged the horse on, till they were racing past the gates or Edoras and onto the plains.  
  
They galloped for a long while, Legolas neither steering nor urging the horse on. He was lost in thought and worry and his mind traveled to the perils wrought in their path, and the perils wrought before Frodo and Sam, though these were not quite so clear. It was as Celeborn and Galadriel had counseled in Lorien. The future was unclear. If Frodo were to succeed then the Three Elven rings should fade in their power and the days of the Elder would most certainly come to an end. But if he were to fail, then all that was once fair and beautiful in the world would fall to darkness.  
  
His thoughts were interrupted when Arod drew back from his gallop. Legolas peered around him and a deep sense of unease welled up inside him. The night had grown darker, as if the light of the stars had somehow dimmed. Edoras was now a faint dot on the horizon. A single dark cloud blocked all light from the moon. Fog rolled at him at all sides, leaving only the forest clear. "This is an ill, unnatural fog that rolls down on us my friend," he told the horse quietly.   
  
Arod shifted uneasily. His ears twitched and his nostrils flared, smelling something foul behind him. He began to back away from the fog without bidding from his rider. Legolas scanned the mist, but so thick and heavy did it hang that not even Elf eyes could pierce the veil. The land was eerily silent.  
  
Suddenly, from all sides did the Huruk-hai burst from the fog. The large, hideous black creatures were all cast with the white hand of Saruman upon their chests. Arod's eyes rolled and he neighed shrilly. Legolas immediately went for his bow, drawing arrows faster than any mortal man could see. Four he shot through the chest, and three more through the neck before the came within reach of him. Their number was great and he held little hope for himself, but did not cease his fire. A tall, broad Huruk-hai grasped at his leg, but the blonde elf kicked him back.   
  
When his last arrow was spent he drew his two long blades. He killed or injured a number more with them, slicing, hacking and kicking, but their sheer number was too great. A couple managed to sling ropes around Arods' legs and threw the gray bodily to the earth. Legolas rolled clear of his fallen steed, but the Huruk-hai were upon him before he had a chance to regain his feet. They poured over him, seizing his weapons and pinning him down. His head fell, he was defeated. What would Aragorn say, when he heard the news? What of Gimli?  
  
Then the great swarming of Huruk-hai departed, leaving only the three that bore the elf down. A man uttered a word quickly in Orc speech and came forward. He was clothed all in white, shrouded by a cloak and hood, clutching a staff. One gnarled hand pulled the hood back and the face of Saruman the White smiled down on him gravely. Legolas' eyes widened.   
  
"At long last we meet, Legolas of Mirkwood. Your company has long now defied my will. Little do they know that their defeat will come at the hands of one of their own. You have a part to play for me yet Elf." He turned, walking back toward the trees. "Bring him," he commanded. The Huruk-hai yanked Legolas to his feet and dragged him in Saruman's wake.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Well? It's my first time writing a LotR story, so I hope this reads well. It was quite fun actually. Promise, Aragorn and Gimli will have much more substantial parts in the next chapter. Please tell me what you think, good or bad, make suggestions, whatever. 


	2. 2

Chapter 2:  
  
A/N: Okay,. so as I said, Aragorn and Gimli should have a fair part in following chapters. I'm basically following the storyline of the movie (I'm still reading the books), just tweaking it here and there. I do hope you like Dani, I'm not sure what I'm gonna do with her yet. hah, yup, Saruman's got legolas.....(evil laugh).  
  
Disclaimer: Belong to Tolkein, long may they live in fanfic.  
  
~*~  
  
The fog that lay across the fields of Rohan receded back to the foul place it came. The moon shone anew when the black cloud that had covered it blew away over the mountains. But even as the silvery glow of the moon returned Legolas was driven again into darkness, amongst the twisting branches and dark boughs of Fangorn. His eyes roved the area around him, searching out the best path to escape, if he were to get a chance at it.  
  
Saruman led them away back into the forest. The Elf was lucky of his light feet, so roughly did the Uruk-hai drag him through the tangled undergrowth of the trees. Saruman drew to a halt in a small clearing. The forest was like a labyrinth and behind them the trees seemed to move across the path they had just taken, blocking them completely inside. The trees here were dark, their bark nearly black. The trees seemed to bend inward, as if drawn to Saruman. Boughs bare of leaves reached out and clutched at the hair and shirts of all, save the wizard. The canopy above them completely blocked the night sky and the only light there was came from a single torch resting in the center of a large stump.  
  
"Fangorn Forest lives, the earth, the rock the very trees, but not all things live under your rule," Legolas told him smugly.  
  
"Not all things," the wizard conceded, "but many. And on this night I should add an elf to that list."  
  
"I knew that madness had taken your mind Saruman; that enough is plain in your decision to serve the Dark Lord. I did not realize stupidity had taken you as well." Saruman frowned, tightening his grip upon his staff. "I will not be any servant to your cause." He spat upon the ground. "I would sooner die than betray my friends. So do as you would and know it useless. Torture me and I would resist you. Slay me, and the hearts of my friends would grow with revenge and seek to destroy you."  
  
The wizard's long, angular face hardened. His eyes narrowed and his back seemed to bristle. The Elf drew himself up to face the wizard with thrown back shoulders. Blue eyes fairly crackled with sparks. A rage filled the elf, a terrible fury that had been wrought upon few, and fewer still who would walk away. "Isengard will fall and you will find no allegiance in me."  
  
Saruman stepped forward and tapped his staff upside the Elf's head. The tap was light, but the ringing it left in his ears was quite loud and long in fading. "You are bull headed Greenleaf," Saruman sneered. "Allegiance can be given, but it can also be taken. I controlled the will of that old fool Theoden for many days, and would still control if not for Gandalf."   
  
"You may not find it such an easy task to take my mind."  
  
"An elf perhaps will be harder to bend to my will, but it will be done. I will have your allegiance make no mistake of that." He turned to the dark Uruk-hai. "Release him and leave us." They complied, and the trees parted as they passed. Legolas ignored them and remained a tall blonde fury and hatred seethed from him. His fists were clenched at his sides. This was not the death he had imagined, but he would meet it head on all the same.  
  
Saruman smirked, a bubble of mirth rising in his throat till it spilled out in a rumbling laugh. "Fool! I do not seek to end your miserable life this night. Nay, the Dark Lord and I as well, have plans for you yet. He seeks the One Ring yes, but the great eye sees beyond one want. The race of Men are working to rise against him, and he would defeat them in early days, before any strength is gathered."  
  
"Then how would I serve you?" Legolas queried. He held his hands out as if innocent. I am but one in vast and growing tide. I do not control the race of Men, nor do I influence their strength by any great measure. You might be well to simply kill me.........," he shrugged, "or send me back."  
  
"There you are mistaken. You do influence their strength. The Great Eye sees much, and now the identity of the heir of Elendil is unveiled. But men are still blinded yet, and do see him yet as their one hope. Finish him and tear asunder any chance men had to stand against my Lord. And you master elf, are a trusted member of his company. Do you see now where my thoughts take thee?"  
  
Legolas shook his head. "You truly are mad. I would follow him through to the ends of time. Through fire and death and never would I deceive him or draw a weapon against him. He is a great leader of men and I would not play a part in any plot against him."  
  
"Valiant," Saruman nodded. "Noble intentions indeed. But you must understand Prince of Mirkwood.........it is not your choice to make." A small flick of his hand seemed a signal to the two dark trees behind Legolas. Their branches snaked forward, snaring his wrists and ankles. Tiny brambles grasped at his long hair, drawing back his head. His heels dragged deep into the earth as the trees drew him back. Then the branches at his feet gave a sudden pull, yanking him from his feet. He hung, arms outstretched and level with the ground, three feet off the ground.  
  
"Wizard, whatever you do to me, your foul nature will not go unpunished. Do you have no conscience left in you? Have you been so completely blinded by your greed? You are naught but a contemptuous villain, and I swear, if I ever get the chance I will strike an arrow through your treacherous heart," he growled.  
  
Saruman drew a small object from his robes. A slender chain of mithran, so fine it could barely be seen, dangled from his closed palm. "What evil tidings do you now conceal? If you plan to utilize what you possess, then what is the use to hide it?"  
  
Saruman's dark eyes lifted briefly to the elf. He did not answer, merely opened his fingers and let the object drop to the end of its chain. There it spun, a small transparent jewel. It was a half globe, the flat edged backed by mithran silver, hardly more than the size of a peach pit. Then, as Legolas watched, transfixed, a dark cloud bloomed from its center. The black mist spread as if in water, till it devoured all the surface of the jewel. It seemed to drink in any light around it, creating a deep shadow all around itself. Saruman drew closer. And though he could not see it, Legolas was well aware of the crushing presence of the Dark Lord brought nearer.   
  
Saruman's eyes rolled back beneath half closed lids. His lips stirred in silent utterances. Legolas wanted only to fight, to disrupt his concentration, but found himself born to quiet stillness. Saruman's voice lulled him, while the black jewel transfixed him. At the moment Saruman laid the token around Legolas's neck, nothing in the hollow seemed to breathe.  
  
The medallion hung at the end of its chain, near the bottom of the elf's breastbone. Legolas drew in a sharp breath as it settled upon his bare skin. It was at once fire and ice together, searing itself to his chest. A hot burn raced over his skin like fire, scorching him to his very fingertips. At the same time it chilled him to his very core, icing his heart. His body arced with the consuming pain, mouth hung open in a silent cry. His hands fisted, fingernails drawing blood from his palms.  
  
Then his body went slack and he drew in deep, shuddering breaths. The half globe sat imbedded in his flesh, so fixed no mere hand or tool could have removed it. Saruman came toward him, smiling. Legolas stared him down, a sheen of sweat on his pale brow. "And now to finish it."  
  
The wizard then drew a crystal dagger from his robes. The hilt was black and festooned with a blood red ruby. With one hand the wizard roughly drew up his tunic and shirt, exposing the blonde's stomach. He drew the dagger down the line of Legolas' ribs, almost to his naval. The slice was some five inches inches long and an inch deep. Legolas remained impassive. Compared to the pain the stone had brought, the knife was little more than an irritating tickle.  
  
One of the black trees extended a branch, and from it the wizard pluck a single leaf of onyx. He set it down on the tree stump. "I will bind you to me," he announced, drawing the dagger over his palm, "with mine own blood." He sheathed the knife. He made a fist, letting the blood trickle between his fingers and fall into the leaf. He used it as a sort of basin, and brought the small pool over to where Legolas remained.   
  
  
  
"For compliance, for service, to bind him to the will of the Dark Lord and myself at our call, a divergence from his own self." He tipped the leaf, dribbling his blood down into Legolas' wound. The wound spit and hissed, and an unnatural smoke rose from it. "Conceal now our power, so that only the darkest eyes may see." Legolas' eyes widened as before him, the stone on his chest vanished, though he was still aware of its influence.   
  
Even as the blood dripped the wound sealed itself. It healed itself in moments, but the scar left in its wake was dark indeed. Suddenly, the branches that ensnared him released and he dropped to the ground. A hideous roar came into his ears. He rolled over in agony, drawing his knees under him and clutching at his head. Saruman's voice, which had been so soothing, now screamed inside his head. It brought with it a black tide and a shadow over his mind. Every part of him rallied to beat it back. After a moment or two his struggles subsided.  
  
Saruman waited as the elf rose to his feet. "Well Legolas Elf, who do you serve?"  
  
Legolas' chin lifted slowly. His eyes drew up to find the wizard's. But his eyes were no longer the startling blue of the sky, nor sparkling, cheerful or wise. His eyes were two dark pitted holes, void of soul and recognition. And deep within them burned a tiny red ember. His countenance had twisted into something cold. "The Dark Lord beseeches me to his will, and the will of the keeper at Isengard, Saruman."  
  
The wizard's smile widened, though it did nothing to light his face and did not reach his eyes. "And your duty?"  
  
"To lay ruin to the hopes of men. To slay Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to Elendil."  
  
--  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Okay, so no Aragorn or Gimli in this chapter yet, I swear they're coming. I just thought this would be a good place to end. Hope you're enjoying this thus far, it's been fun to write. 


	3. 3

Chapter 3:  
  
A/N: I'm glad all that have reviewed have liked this thus far. I'm still getting a feel for the friendship and relationships between legolas/Gimli/ and Aragorn, so any advice or helpful criticisms are appreciated.   
  
Disclaimer: I own none but Dani.  
  
~*~  
  
Heavy lids opened slowly. Pale blue eyes greeted the waking dawn that rose up over the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant hues of pink and ginger. Soft white clouds drifted high above. Legolas Greenleaf sat, legs crossed beneath him, with his back pressed against the trunk of a tree at the edge of Fangorn. His bow rested across one knee, an arrow beneath his fingertips. Some yards away his steed, the gray Arod, stood contentedly grazing, tail flicking lazily every so often.  
  
He blinked a few times and gave a small shake of his head. One hand rose to his temple. The dawn was just peaking over the East, but he did not remember falling asleep. He did not even recall drawing Arod up and taking respite against the trees. In fact, the last thing he remembered clearly was riding out from the stable at Edoras. "Some dark work it is that has wiped my memory." he spoke to himself, but Arod lifted his head to watch him curiously. "Yet here I am, none the worse for it, with my weapons, my horse and my health. Perhaps I was simply more weary than I had reckoned and took my rest here."  
  
Finding no other cause or explanation he rose, slinging his bow and quiver onto his back. Legolas went to Arod, laying a hand upon the sleek gray shoulder. "I dare say we had best return, before any of my company realize that we have gone. I should not like to face Gandalf's rage at this early hour, or Aragorn's concern, nor even the dwarf's biting tongue." Arod blinked lazily then stomped a hoof to send off an irritating fly.  
  
"Hmphh," he grumbled as he leapt nimbly onto the horse's back. "You are a poor companion for idle chatter. Even Gimli is more loquacious than thou in the morning hours." Legolas smiled, chuckling softly at his own silliness. He urged the horse into a brisk trot, setting out for Edoras.  
  
The elf's mind was idle during the return, content to led Arod find his own way. Despite his own best assurances regarding his situation, he felt nowhere as rested as he should after hours of uninterrupted slumber. His mind was heavy, laden with a thick fog. His body was weary, as weary as he could remember, and stiff. "The next time I should decide for a bit of sleep, I will remember not rest propped up against the trunk of a tree," he grumbled to himself.  
  
The sun had just fully risen over the horizon in the East when he reached the gates at the bottom of the city. The people woke with the dawn. Already he felt himself watched by curious or even suspicious eyes, as they wound their way up the hill to palace and stables.  
  
Legolas returned Arod to the stables and his morning fodder without a word, then took the stairs to the Golden Hall two at a time. They slid open with a tremendous groan, and all the resided within, gathered for a morning meal, fell to silence when he entered.   
  
Aragorn sat at a small table at the had of the hall with Theoden one his left and Gandalf to his right. Eowyn, Theoden's niece sat beside the King looking distressed. He caught the gaze of the Ranger first. He barely paused in speaking quietly with the King, but even the brief, silent exchange spoke volumes to the Elf. Questions lingered in the depths of his eyes, questions he could not long avoid, and questions he was not sure he could answer.   
  
Gimli sat at the end of a table two rows back from Aragorn and Gandalf. Some of what remained of Theoden's guard ate their, speaking in hushed whispers and sending hooded glances in the direction of those in the company. There was an empty place beside Gimli, reserved no doubt for the Elf, though the Dwarf would surely never admit it. His eyes lifted, inviting Legolas over with a nod. He sat quietly, still considering how he might explain his absence.   
  
He sat for a while, hands lain in his lap. Finally Gimli broke what was, for the pair, an unusually long silence. "Eat!" The dwarf boomed encouragingly. "Too long have I tasted nothing but Lembas bread. Eat while there is a good meal set before you." A girl wove through the tables hefting a pitcher of fresh, cold water. Gimli rose and went to her, mug in hand. "I'd have another bit of that lass," he said, still standing behind her.  
  
She spun quickly and took a step, nearly running over the top of Gimli as she did so. Water sloshed from her pitcher onto his head, so that in a moment the long hairs of his beard dripped onto the stone floor. Hearing the splash and ensuing irate grumbling of his companion, Legolas looked up. His eyes twinkled and his face lit into a rare but wondrous smile as he laughed.   
  
A pink flush rose up Dani's neck. She ducked her head, shading her eyes with her free hand. "I apologize." The words came in a rush. "I fear I .........I mean.........I did not......... see you," she finished flatly.  
  
"Well drat woman! You should be a sight more careful of where you tread in the future!" Gimli roared. He fisted the ends of his beard in both hands, ringing water from its tendrils. "Tis your job to serve after all!"  
  
Dani stiffened. Her pride was offended, to be called out in front of the men of Rohan and the King. She bit down on her lip to stay the flood of words she might utter in fury. Her one jade eye spit sparks as her hand clenched the handle of the water pitcher. Many in the hall had fallen silent in the exchange, though a few shielded smirks behind glasses and palms. One, a tall, stout man glared at them fixedly.  
  
"What would you have her do Gimli?" The Elf's soft, tranquil voice broke the uneasy stillness in the room. Both Gimli and Dani turned. One corner of his mouth quirked as he took a sip from his mug. "Get down upon her knees so she might serve you at eye level?" There were a few titters. Now it was time for Gimli's face to go red, though it was mostly concealed beneath his mass of hair. The dwarf strode over, keen on yelling at his companion. Legolas merely placed a hand upon his shoulder. "She did apologize," he reminded Gimli quietly. "And now both you have been discomfited. Let the matter rest."  
  
Everyone had since returned to their conversations. Gimli bowed his head and gave a small sigh. "Ay," he consented. Dani had drawn closer to their table, filling the glasses of men as they ran dry. She came to Gimli and halted, as though undecided. "It is not in my nature, you understand, to apologize," Gimli began gruffly. "But as it is, my manner to a lady was not as it should. it was an honest mistake."   
  
Sensing that this was as best an apology she could have hoped for, Dani relaxed. "Would you care for more water uh.........I'm afraid I did not catch your name."  
  
"Yes, thank you, so long as it comes in my glass, and not my beard."   
  
She proffered a tiny smile. "I shall do my best."   
  
"As to the other, I am Gimli, son of Gloin. And your name?"   
  
"Danuriel," Legolas answered for her. "Daughter of Daniel and keeper of the horses of the Rohirrim." The dwarf's eyebrow raised, but he uttered no words.  
  
"As for you Master Elf," she turned her attention to Legolas, one hand set upon her hip, looking quite stern. "When you said 'ride' I did not realize you meant to set out on a night long expedition. Is Arod returned? Hopefully in the same state as you left with him?"  
  
"Yes, of course. It was never my intent to stay out so long, but I fear I was lost in thought and rode farther than I had intended." The lie slipped easily over his lips. There was no need to explain things here. He noticed Gimli looking at him oddly. "I had no mind for sleep last night and my feet found their way to the stables," he explained. "I was thusly threatened by the lady there if harm were to come to the horses."  
  
Gimli chuckled heartily, his shoulders shaking. "Any person laid at odds with the Elf is indeed after mine own heart. So tell me, why does the keeper of the stables serve at breakfast as well?"  
  
"An easy enough question to answer I suppose. You have met Grima Wormtongue, yes?"  
  
"Ay."  
  
"Then you understand his rather, distinct, character. Many who worked serving and cooking found him of an ill disposition and were in fact frightened enough to take their leave."  
  
"But not you?" The dwarf's eyes twinkled with amusement.  
  
"I serve my King in any manner I may be able. Wormtongue had a deceitful, treacherous tongue indeed, weaving lies and deception. However, he had naught a spine of which to speak. He makes my skin crawl, but I do not fear him." The tall, dark man of earlier half rose in his seat, glaring at Dani. "Excuse me," and she departed.  
  
"Interesting acquaintance you have met here," Gimli said.  
  
"Interesting indeed. I think you owe her a bit of thanks, for she has done you a service." He plucked a slice of ham from a plate in the center of the table and set it down on his own.  
  
"And why is that?"  
  
"Come Gimli, must I say it?" Gimli glowered and the elf sighed. "You look better wet."  
  
--  
  
"...Send out Riders, call for aid," Gandalf's (?) voice begged for reason. "Eomer rides East with men still loyal to Rohan. Stay here and fight."  
  
The aging King sat stonily upon his throne. His warrior's heart longed for the glory of open battle, but he was no longer a young man, and was newly stripped of his only heir. His heart was too newly cut to hear the sage wisdom of the Mithradir. "We make for the fortress at Helm's Deep," he finally stated. His tone left little hope for negotiation, and Gandalf stalked from the Golden Hall, Aragorn at his heels.  
  
Gandalf strode into the stable, a whirling ball of irritated fury. Inside two people were in the midst of a heated discussion, but the wizard cared not for petty squabbles in the moment. They fell immediately silent upon his entrance, a tall guard of Rohan glared at Aragorn as he stalked back out into the sunlight. The other member of the party shrank away from Gandalf, as if the dim shadows might conceal her. He saw her out the corner of his eye, the same girl he had seen speaking to Gimli and Legolas earlier. The thought barely registered.  
  
He looked to Gandalf, sitting bestride the great Shadofax. The old man bent down, one hand clutching his staff and a fistful of mane. "Look for me at dawn on the third day, to the East." Aragorn nodded once and he was gone, racing away on the ivory stallion, flying without wings.   
  
Dani said nothing, and kept to the shadows as Aragorn passed her again. She saw in him a man among men. His presence was at once proud and humbled, and ever calm before a mounting storm. His eyes met her for an instant and her chest constricted. A chill ran up from her fingertips. His gaze seemed to swallow her, to know her in a wordless moment. Never had she experienced anything so singularly piercing. It was not until he departed into the sunlight that released the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.  
  
--  
  
A few hours later, Dani stood before Eowyn's closed door. The city was bustling as everyone hurried to pack what possessions they would take. What remained of the Rohirrim guard readied their mounts and rode amongst the people, keeping order and offering aid where it was needed. She couldn't remember the last time the city had been uprooted so suddenly, and a feeling of dread encroached upon her.   
  
Dani rapped lightly against the heavy wood door. The dark wood was burnished and smooth. She waited, hand hovering above the handle. No answer came, only muffled grunting from inside. She entered quietly, swiftly shutting the door behind her as she squeezed through. As her eyes lifted they went immediately wide and Dani threw herself back. her back hit the door with a resounding thud, a small squeak escaping her lips. The blade of Eowyn whistled as it sliced the still air, coming to a quivering halt, the tip of the blade scant inches from her nose.  
  
"If you had any less skill with a blade milady, I would fear that you might lob off my as you would an orc." She attempted to keep her tone light, though her suspicious eye never left the blade. Smiling tightly she slid along the door and out from under the tip of the sword. "I dare say I might find that.........disagreeable."  
  
Eowyn chuckled softly, sheathing the sword dexterously. She wrapped the weapon reverently before laying it among the rest of her possessions. She would go to Helm's Deep, but not without a means for defense. "Do not speak foolishly Dani. You do not look like an orc, nor do you hold any of the characteristic odor of one. Besides which, I would never lob off your head here," she swept an arm around the room, "think of the mess."   
  
"I suppose your words are meant to bring me comfort lady Eowyn."  
  
"Take them as you would. Is there an express purpose to your visit, or did you simply come for discourse?"  
  
"I come to aid you milady, to ready you for the road ahead. Your horse stands ready as we speak, and the people will set out shortly. Theoden awaits you."  
  
Eowyn did not pause from stuffing a shirt into her small pack. "I will be there shortly. Go Dani, ready yourself, for I know you and know that you have not yet. Soon we will ride together for Helm's Deep."   
  
--  
  
Darkness crept around him, engulfing the tall figure in shadow. Withered, gnarled hands clasped a gleaming onyx staff. The only light cast upon his angular features came from atop the staff, and even that light seemed to come from darkness. There would have been no joy at the sight of it, only great and unending despair.   
  
Saruman stood at the center of the tower of Orthanc, his eyes half rolled back in his head. His lips moved quickly, but sounded only of a hissing whisper. In his mind's eye he could see the path of the Elven Prince as through the Elf's own eyes, cast down on a marbled floor. He reached out for him, calling for his will to bend.   
  
Legolas was not consciously aware of the presence lurking in his head, but still his unconscious mind strove to drive it away. Saruman's eyes stung with the effort of overcoming the immortal's mind. The wizard of Isengard had waited till the departing of Gandalf to try and exert his control. The mithrandir would have no doubt sensed his presence and his plan ruined before its start.  
  
In the palace at Rohan Legolas suddenly halted. He glanced around himself sharply as though to thwart some interloper, but he was alone. He brought one slender hand to his brow and winced. There was a harsh hiss at the back of his mind and vague enough were the words that he could not make them out. The hiss turned then into a high, wailing shriek. He went to take a step, but his body resisted and he slammed on his knees to the stone floor.  
  
The power of the jewel emblazoned on his chest woke again and he found it hard to breathe. From within the black scar left by Saruman, a thin, winding black tendril moved beneath his skin like a tainted vein, toward his naval. The elf rested his forehead against the cool marble, taking a few deep, shuddering breaths. The sudden pain fled as swiftly as it had come, but when his head rose from the floor his eyes had turned black.  
  
Legolas rose purposefully to his feet, drawing the hood of his Elven cloak over his head. Then he pulled the cloak over his lean shoulders, holding it mostly shut with his left hand. His right drew a dagger, shielding it from sight beneath the fabric. Legolas passed silently through a door into the room that had been provided for the members of the company. Aragorn sat alone inside on a chair, his elbows resting upon his knees.  
  
Legolas was halfway across the room when Aragorn finally noticed him, or even, took notice of him. The latter would not have surprised the Elf in the slightest. ~Mellon nin,~ he said quietly.  
  
"Hello Aragorn." He moved ever closer, adjusting the grip he had on his blade. He needed only a few more steps to close the gap. The heir of Elendil still hadn't turned around.  
  
"Has the time come to ride out?"  
  
He was at the back of Aragorn, near enough to touch him. The Elf's heart was pounding. "Soon mellon. Very soon you will be leaving this place." Legolas' hand slipped out from the cloak, the blade gleaming even in poor light. He raised to strike the blade, a manic glint in evil eyes, deep into the man's back.   
  
Chapter 3  
  
Okay, as I write it this story is becoming quite character driven, though I hope the plot doesn't get lost to it. I think in another few chapter I'm gonna have a lot of yelling readers, lol. And I'm sorry for all people who hate OFC's, but I just really want Eowyn to have another female around and to have that interaction, like a lady in waiting of sorts. Love reviews, crave feedback in all forms.........okay, maybe not flames so much but you get the idea. 


	4. 4

Chapter 4:  
  
A/N: I'm glad everyone has been enjoying this thus far. As I've said before, I crave reviews so please feel free, leave one...several, lol. I think I've said everything else I've wanted to.   
  
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own any of em, Tolkein does. I just own Dani.  
  
~*~  
  
Saruman's heart beat faster. He could see it, the knife poised, ready for the last strike. The future King was still unaware. IN his mind's eye the wizard could see the blade begin to tremble. The Elf's unconscious was fighting him, battling his control. Beads of sweat marred his brow, running down between his eyes. Saruman's eyes squeezed shut, face screwed up in concentration. He was so close. He yearned for blood, for the sight of dull, lifeless eyes staring up to nothing.  
  
The great black door of Orthanc swung open with a bang. Saruman started, wheeling to face the interloper, his concentration broken. Grima Wormtongue stood before him, gasping, the long, greasy tendrils of his dark hair marring his visage. "You fool!" he bellowed, his face shaking with barely controlled fury.   
  
Wormtongue cowered. "Master I......."  
  
"I care not for your excuses," he raged. In two steps he crossed the open floor to the side of his trembling minion. He swung his polished black staff in an upward arc, striking Grima just beneath his ribs. The man fell, clutching his stomach and hacking. "If you ever disrupt me again you will pay in blood." With that warning, Saruman swept from the room, robes billowing behind him.  
  
--  
  
Legolas convulsed. His right arm went limp, his fingers unclasping his Elven blade. The power to control his body fled him and his knees bucked, even as the knife slipped from his grasp. He stumbled back and to the right, away from Aragorn, reaching out instinctively at a low table. The heavy stone slab slid along the floor, generating a deep groan. The dagger slid beneath the bench where Aragorn sat.  
  
Legolas righted himself quickly, drawing his feet beneath him. He blinked once and his eyes once again mirrored a cloudless sky. He felt cold. His eyes flitted about the room, wondering how he had come to the chambers of the Grey Company, when last he remembered he'd been walking in the corridor outside.   
  
"Mellon nin." Aragorn was at his side in moments. His hand clapped down on Legolas' shoulder. The Ranger's slate blue eyes searched the Elf's face, his face etched with concern for one of his oldest friends.   
  
"I stumbled," Legolas lied. He would not burden his friend with his own worries. Aragorn already bore with him his conscious knowledge of the Ring, the anxiety before the forthcoming battle. Aragorn felt the weight of a race's hope upon his shoulders already and Legolas would let him bear no more. The matter of an absent minded elf was of no concern, though Aragorn would surely give the matter undo attention.   
  
"I have never seen you trip in the middle of a vacant room. I can barely remember you ever faltering at all," Aragorn pressed gravely.  
  
Legolas forced himself to speak lightly, even choke out a laugh. "Indeed it has been many years since my feet have left me. But I suppose the failing of my feet once or twice in a millennia may be forgiven."  
  
Aragorn let out a breath. "Of course. My mind is simply ill at ease, and the smallest of things lends me concern."  
  
"I know. You worry yourself too much. But do not heed my carelessness, for my mind was elsewhere," the blonde reassured.   
  
"Perhaps," the man conceded. His mouth quirked. "Or perhaps you have lost a step in your.........advanced years. The mind is the first to slip with age after all."  
  
Now Legolas did laugh truly. "Only a man would consider me 'aged' Estel. I am no more ancient than Gimli is tall."  
  
"Whatever you say mellon." Strider's eyes twinkled as he ducked the oncoming swipe of Legolas' hand.  
  
"Enough of this absurdity. I have come to bear news from Theoden. His people are ready, they set out on the long, dangerous road to Helm's Deep. We ride now, and leave this hall for a time." The ranger nodded. He grabbed his satchel from the bench and turned to follow his friend. They left the room, and the dagger lay forgotten in the shadows upon the floor.  
  
--  
  
The vast line of people moving from Edoras to Helm's Deep could be seen from nearly any hillside in the Mark. The moved slowly, a meandering snake of dark shapes among the undulating hills. Dani rode near the middle. Eowyn had left her company almost an hour before, to ride up next to Aragorn. The Lady of Rohan even volunteered to walk, lending her horse to Gimli. Though the short, bearded dwarf probably would have preferred to remain on his own feet, he would not refuse such a kind offer.  
  
Dani held back, watching. Eowyn gazed up at Aragorn with what could be called nothing but adoration. It had been a long time since Dani had seen a smile grace the fair features of her lady. Not since Theodred's death and Eomer's banishment, and the sight of it brought a light to her eye. Still, she fretted, a doubt settling upon her mind. Though Aragorn smiled, returning her gaze, Dani could not sense any return of emotion. He was as he had been in the stables, calm, exuding the aura of a wise and noble man, and slightly aloof. There was friendship in his eyes, but nothing else.  
  
A horse riding up beside her broke her from her thoughts. The man that rode beside her was dark for man of Rohan. He was tall, as tall even as the heir to Gondor's throne. His mail gleamed dully in the sunlight, armor draped across his thick, broad chest. Hazy gray eyes studied her face. "Ride with me for a while." It was not a request and Dani was not so foolish as to take it as one.   
  
"What ominous counsel do you send me now Eorman?" She could not see his face, as he rode on her blind side, but it mattered not. He was scowling she was sure; he always scowled.   
  
"You would do well to heed me Danuriel. I do not so easily trust these companions of the wizard Gandalf as does our King. Do not speak with the Elf or Dwarf, for their kinds are treacherous and rarely seen. And the man, he pursues Eowyn, a man no doubt bent on power."  
  
"All I know is what I see," she argued. "They have done nothing here but give us aid and ride now to fight beside us. And besides that, the horses trust them. Shadowfax, Lord of Horses answers only to Gandalf, and the Elf needs no saddle or rein for Arod. Our horses are not easily swayed by men outside our own realm."  
  
Eorman grunted. "You place to much stock in the instincts of animals. Do not defy me on this Danuriel, it is my will."  
  
"And it is my mind," she snapped, "and I will judge them to my own satisfaction."  
  
A call from the front of the line halted Eorman even as he opened his mouth to argue again. "This is not finished," he told her before riding off at a canter.  
  
The keeper of the stables closed her eyes, letting her horse find his own way. She let her head tip back, soaking in the warmth of the sun. The horse's rhythmic footfalls lulled her flustered nerves in minutes. Then she heard hoof beats come up beside her, slowing to match her pace. "I refuse to enter into a debate with you Eorman. Go away."  
  
"Would you still want me to go," a lilting, musical voice asked, "if I was not the man of whom you speak?" her eyes snapped open and she sat straighter in the saddle. Dani flushed nearly crimson. "My apologies Master Elf. Of course you may ride with me. I would have thought though, that you would prefer your own company," she nodded toward Gimli and Aragorn.  
  
"Gimli is deeply invested teaching Eowyn of his female kin. Aragorn rides with them, and I have no real desire to hear the tale again."  
  
Dani smiled warmly, watching Gimli as Eowyn's horse took off with him. "He is a different sort, isn't he? Unusual."  
  
"Yes. But Gimli tends to.........grow on you after a time. We would no be complete without him."  
  
"And Aragorn? You trust him? You would follow him?"  
  
"Yes," the elf answered quickly, assuredly. "To the end and back. Now, Danuriel you have had your day. What do you think of our order now?"  
  
"I still distrust the powers of wizards, but one day a single deed will not ease years of doubt on the matter, nor did I expect it to. As for you and the rest," she shrugged, "my faith in you grows in spite of my mind. And it is obvious, though we did not hold council, where my lady stands on the matter. Though the look in her eye grieves me, for I do not see it returned in kind," she admitted.  
  
Legolas' face hardened. "Eowyn's pursuit will be in vain. The heart of the Ranger lies elsewhere, and it is no longer his to give. The end to her longing will be bitter, though she may be the better for it in time."  
  
Dani bit down on her lower lip. It was as she had feared. "Let us speak of some other, less dreary matter. The heart will go where it will, unbidden, and I wish to no longer foresee doom in it."  
  
The blonde elf nodded graciously. "As you wish. A question then. Who was it you mistook me for earlier? You did not sound pleased when you thought it was he."  
  
"Eorman, son of Eonal and my betrothed. And I did not sound pleased because I was not."  
  
His slender brows arched mildly. "I see. So then I have embroiled myself in a quarrel of lovers."  
  
Dani stiffened. "We are not lovers," she seethed through clenched teeth.  
  
"So what then? Betrothed, but not beloved?"  
  
"I care very much for him," she countered. "Long has he been in service to the Mark and the King. It is seen as an honor to wed such a man."  
  
"You care for him, but you do not love him." This was not a question and she did not treat it as such.  
  
"It is not a question of love," she returned coldly.   
  
"Then what is it a question of? When does your life cease to be a duty and become your own?"  
  
Her green eye blazed and the haze over her blind eye seemed to thicken. She turned her head to glare at him. "You are being pert. You do not know me or my heart, so do not speak of things you do not understand! We are not all so gifted as the Eldar with unending days. I have not forever to seek out a love."  
  
The elf was admonished. "You are right," he conceded quietly. "It is not my place to lecture you and I have spoken out of turn. I apologize."  
  
They rode in a tense silence for a moment, while Dani fiddled with her reins, scarping at the leather with the thumb of her nail. "Do not," she sighed a moment later. Her shoulders slumped, and the angry edge fled her voice.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Do not apologize. You may not know me, but you are not wrong. My anger spurned from truth I did not want to hear from another. I wed you see, not for duty, but for myself. There will come a day when Eowyn weds, and Theoden is no longer King and I will be utterly alone. I do not care for the thought. Can you understand?"  
  
Legolas was quiet as he reflected. His mind drifted to his friends, Aragorn, Gimli and the rest of the Fellowship. He would long outlive them all and it was not a thought he often dwelled on. He, better than most elves, knew of the harsh sting of mortality and the slow burning of loneliness. "Yes, I believe I can." She nodded and the two rode for a while in companionable silence.  
  
--  
  
Later in the journey Legolas left Dani's side. Eorman had been shooting the Elf dark looks for over an hour and he tired of the constant scrutiny. Leaving Arod with a Rohirrim guard, he made his way over a hillock beside the road. He knew not what drove him there, only following the instinct that led him. Azure eyes scanned the horizon, and for a moment all was peaceful. Still, the knot in his stomach grew. "Wargs," he whispered to himself. He knew what came even before he saw them.  
  
His eyes narrowed as he watched the first bound over top the hill. "Wargs!" he cried out. The two Rohirrim guard riding behind him wheeled their mounts, galloping back to raise the alarm. He did not look to them, simply pulled an arrow from his quiver and brought it to his bow. Legolas shot arrows so quickly that at fleeting glance it would seem that he did not sight his quarry at all. But one, two, three arrows in quick succession hitting their mark, made obvious his skill.   
  
He disliked Wargs intensely. A few wild ones roamed the forests of Mirkwood, and many an Elf had been caught unaware. A few died, almost none returned without a severe wound. Wargs were filthy, rough coated beasts with dripping fangs. They were the chosen animals of the Orcs, and they rode them as men did horses, sitting astride the large hump between the animal's shoulders. Wargs were slightly shorter than horses, but broader and thicker in muscle. Their teeth were sharp and their claws razors that could slice a man open from gullet to toe in one swipe. He loathed them.  
  
A rush of hoof beats behind him told of the coming of the Rohirrim. The Orc riders streamed at them in huge numbers and for every one that fell, there seemed two to replace him. Legolas let fly two more arrows before whipping around, grasping the horn of Arod's saddle. He sprang lightly off his feet, pulled higher by the speed of the galloping horse and swung neatly into the saddle.   
  
Gimli muttered something about showboating elves, but he paid the Dwarf little mind. Aragorn raced alongside them on the chestnut Hasufel, and down the line legolas spotted Theoden aboard his stalwart Snowmane. The horses of Rohan were stout in heart indeed, and not one faltered as the flung headlong into the mass of Orcs and Wargs. The smells of death and decay assaulted them, but not one slackened in pace.   
  
Arod leaped forward up a small incline and Gimli tumbled off to the rear. Legolas pulled the horse up just long enough to assure himself of his friend's safety before hurrying on. A litter of horses, men, Orcs and Wargs lay scattered amongst the grass, the blood of all mixing in emerald blades. Aragorn was off his horse now, slicing and hacking with his sword. Theoden and others let loose victorious cries. They were winning.  
  
Then, at the far end of the field, Legolas spied two Orc riders that had slipped through the line. They charged up the crest of the hill and vanished on the other side. His blood ran cold. The people of Edoras hurried along now, but they were virtually defenseless. He heeled Arod into a gallop, urging the horse to flight as he raced after the Orcs. His quiver was bare of arrows and he leaned from the saddle, plucking two from the body of a slain Warg praying to the Valar that he would not be too late.  
  
--  
  
Eowyn had taken charge of the front of the line. She urged all to move as quickly as they were able, toward the safety of the Deeping Wall and the fortress inside. She yearned to be with the others, to fight alongside the men, but her arguments with her uncle had been futile, so she remained to guide them all. Dani rode farther down the line on her bay, calling for haste. The two women spurred the group on with all the will they had to muster.  
  
The sight of the Orc rider coming at them down the hill, instantly sent a chill through Eowyn. She grasped the hilt of her sword and pulled it from its sheath, as those behind her cried out and cowered. She moved her horse away from her people, leaving a clear space for defense. Still, her face paled as he neared and she realized, his intent was not to fight her, but to drive through her. No sword stroke she could muster would halt the crushing onslaught of Orc and beast. Face grim, she steeled herself for the impact.  
  
The Warg gathered himself to leap, drawing his heavy muscled haunches beneath him. Then, at the last possible moment, an arrow sliced through the Warg's neck. His jump faltered and he crashed to the ground, sliding to a halt near the hooves of Eowyn's mare. The Orc was readily on its feet again, but Eowyn held no fear of a mere Orc. She pushed her horse onward and she swung her sword, meeting the dark, curved blade of the enemy in mid swing.  
  
Twice more the blades locked before she felled him. She swung her mare around, slamming the horse's shoulder into the Orc and he stumbled. She buried her sword in his gut, drawing it up the soft flesh of his belly and bled him dry. She breathed deeply, face alight with victory. Then her gaze swept around her and found Dani some yards away, still holding her bow.   
  
Eowyn's grateful smile died even as it came to her. Another Warg and rider came down on them, this one from behind Dani on her blind side. "Dani!" she screamed a warning, too far away to offer any other assistance.   
  
Dani paled at the sound of Eowyn's terrified cry. She twisted in the saddle just in time to see the slobbering face of a warg bear down upon her. She drew her bow, but it was too late. Her horse reared, attempting to spin out of the way of the charge. Dani felt the impact of the Warg's chest against her leg, and her the snapping of his teeth as she and her mount fell and the Warg flew over them. She fell clear of her horse, drawing her knees up to her chin and shielding her head with her arms. One claw snagged the fabric of her shirt and a searing pain tore up her arm.  
  
She lifted herself off the ground. Behind her, her horse scramble to his feet. Her eyes met those of the Orc, who looked utterly satisfied. He raised his blade. An arrow sailed through the air, striking the Warg in the soft flesh behind its forearm, piercing its heart. A second imbedded itself in the Orc's eye. Both crashed to the ground, mere inches from her face. Dani wheeled. Legolas sat atop Arod at the crest of the hill, bow at the ready. He said nothing, just spun Arod and went back to the fray.  
  
--  
  
Aragorn's thoughts were not on the rough terrain over which he was being dragged. Rocks tore at his clothes, bruising and slicing his legs, but he barely noticed. His mind was not even on the Orc rider inches away from him. Instead he concentrated on loosing his hand, and trying not to tear his shoulder apart.   
  
He was not sure at exactly what moment Arwen's token was lost to him. Though in the following moments that he recalled later, he was sure that the sky had darkened then, and the weather had grown colder. And he could still not free his hand. The Orc grinned at him viciously, revealing rotting, crooked teeth. Then he flung himself off the Warg. Aragorn craned to look over his own shoulder and he drew a sharp breath when he sighted the edge of the cliff.  
  
The Warg fell and Aragorn's arm was wrenched once again. A spray of dirt hit him in the face and he shut his eyes against it. They were still shut when the Warg slipped over the edge of the cliff. And suddenly the sharp sting of rocks and the threat of swords an bow seemed far preferable to the vast emptiness in which he found himself falling.   
  
The river below roared, an in an ironic play, his hand freed itself a moment before he struck the water. The icy water struck him like a thousand small knives and he flipped end over end. A veil of tiny bubbles obscured his vision and he knew not which way was up and which down. The strength of the river current held him under, sweeping him along till his breath was used up. He sprang to the surface, gasping for air. He had not gone another few yards when the current hurtled him into a rock, and he remembered nothing more.  
  
--  
  
Legolas could barely make himself pick up the necklace. The shining token of the Evenstar twirled on the end of its chain. Legolas's heart was filled with dread. The necklace was something Aragorn would never willingly part with. The interrogation of the Orc only increased the fear in his mind. He and Gimli both walked with leaden feet to the edge of the cliff.   
  
Both friends peered over the edge together. There, on the rocks below lay the battered body of a Warg. Legolas's hand clenched more tightly around the silver token. "He is not down there," Gimli's voice was low and Legolas was not sure if the words were meant to be reassuring. Aragorn was lost. The Elf was not certain what vexed him more, the thought that Aragorn was dead, or the feeling of grim satisfaction that once stole on a black cloud through his mind.  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Hope you've enjoyed so far. Please tell me what you think, good bad or ugly. 


	5. 5

Chapter 5:  
  
A/N: Grr, wish I could write and post more often, but that darn school thing gets in the way. Eowyn and Dani talk about the guys, Eowyn and Legolas deal with a fallen Aragorn. Hope this continues on in the vein you all seem to like.  
  
Disclaimer: I own none but Dani.  
  
Oh, and on another note, for all those who might be scared, this will not turn into a romance any time in the near future, probably ever.  
  
- thoughts-  
  
/flashback/   
  
~*~  
  
A dark and grisly thought entered his mind as he stared at the cliff's edge. -He is gone. It is finished.- It lasted less than a moment, the dark haze, but it left the Elf sickened and wrought with guilt. He shook his head, the muscles in his cheek flexing as he ground his teeth. He knew not from where the black thought came, but he banished it quickly.   
  
--  
  
In Orthanc, Saruman lifted his hand, touching his nose with his fingertips. He had just begun to reach out again for the Elf. But somehow Legolas had felt him, and cast him away with a surge of anger. He rubbed the blood that dripped between his fingers with disdain. His expulsion from the Elf's wakeing mind had been violent, a blow to the face. Still, he was pleased. Aragorn was felled, or so it seemed to him then, and his march on Rohan could now begin.   
  
--  
  
Gimli and Legolas joined Theoden at the edge, peering down the rocky precipice and into the gorge. Far below them on the rocks, lay the mangled, bloody body of the Warg. Legolas' eyes desperately scanned the river bank on both sides, and the water, as far as he could see, but their was no sign of Aragorn. His knees threatened to betray him and he felt at once hollow.  
  
"Estel," he whispered the man's Elvish name, too softly for the other's to hear. He rarely called Aragorn by that name in outside company. It was a name between old friends, of family. Yet here he could think of him as none other than the little boy, then the young, bold ranger he had grown to know and love as a brother. He was stricken with grief beyond words.  
  
"Gather the injured," Theoden ordered. "Leave the dead."  
  
At those words Legolas' head snaked around, thunderclouds rolling over his eyes. They could not leave him. His feet would surely not allow him to tread steps away from his friend. "Aragorn may yet be alive," he snapped. "We must search for him."  
  
"Many lives here today have been lost. The Wargs of Isengard will return. We must got to sanctum at Helm's Deep." The argument, at least to the mind of Theoden, was over. He turned on his heel, striding away from Elf and Dwarf. His men needed guidance, and the two friends needed a moment to mourn. They would not likely get another.  
  
The blonde Elf Prince turned to his companion. "I would know Gimli, if he had passed on from this world, but I do not feel it. I do not believe Aragorn is dead." His voice lowered. "He cannot be."  
  
Gimli reached up to grasp the Elf's shoulder. He too, held hope that the man was still alive. He only hoped that their grief was not deluding their minds. "Then he will return to us. Come on lad, there is little more to do here," he said gruffly. The Elf stood rooted to the rock. "He would want us to go on with Theoden," he urged. Legolas' eyes were glassy. He cast one final look into the precipice, then followed Gimli away from the cliff.  
  
--  
  
Eowyn and Danuriel worked side by side in silence. The people of Rohan crowded the alleys behind the Deeping Wall. There were many, frightened, who had left homes burning at the hands of the Wildmen. Children hunkered down in the grasps of their mothers, crying softly. Others searched frantically looking for loved ones. Eowyn, Dani and a few others readied supplies for the return of the Riders. The injured would require tending, clean bandages and water.   
  
Eowyn dragged a cot over to one wall. She smoothed the edges of the wispy sheets time and time again, losing herself in the motion. "Eowyn," the Lady did not heed the call of her name, running her hands over the cot again. "Eowyn," Dani set her hands over that of her lady, stilling them. Eowyn gazed up at her friend. "Be still. We need your level mind when the men return." Nodding silently, the Lady of the Mark sat heavily upon the bed. "They will return," she reassured her. "He will return."  
  
"Of course Theoden will return."  
  
"That is not of whom I speak, though I am sure he will. Your eyes betray you Eowyn. They do not roam from him when he is near. Already you care for him. Though I don't suppose wandering eyes could have settled upon one better."  
  
Eowyn's breath came out in a rush and she smiled thinly. "Of course. You know me too well Dani, though funny it is to be lectured by you on my eyes. Your eyes roam as well, but let's not forget," a teasing tone came to her voice, "I am not betrothed."  
  
Dani shrugged, grinning slyly. Her lady's mood had brightened a little and she was glad of it. "And what is the harm in a look? The men look. Eorman's eyes do not remain riveted on me. But even still, I know not of what you speak. This new company is interesting indeed, but my eyes would not to them ROAM as you say. The wizard is aged and his manner upsets me. Aragorn, it seems, already has himself an admirer, and the dwarf, however desirable to his own, is not of my preference."  
  
Eowyn's smile widened then, and a light reached her face. "You would do well not to attempt to feign innocence. It does not suit you Dani."  
  
"So again I ask, what is the harm in a look?"  
  
"There is no harm, so long as a look it remains. So long as your heart does not roam with your eyes. The match with Eorman is a good one. He will long keep you in health and home."  
  
Dani grunted. "I do not wish to be KEPT. My life lies in the Mark, with the herds. Eorman will not have that. He seeks only a wife, a keeper of his home. He does not want me. It pains me milady, the thought of a union to a man that does not love me wholly for myself. I am torn, between a life of my choosing, and a life of stability. Yet Theoden himself approved the match, and loathe I am to dissent with the will of my King."  
  
"Then you must ponder the matter further," Eowyn counseled, "and decide where your life will lead you. With Eorman, or down some other road. If you would truly find no happiness with him, none would fault your decision." A call from the gates interrupted their discussion. Eowyn's features hardened once more, the worries that had temporarily set aside came flooding back. "I go to meet them." She stood.  
  
"My place is with the horses. I will find you again later." The two women turned in opposite directions and left.  
  
--  
  
Eowyn rushed forward to meet the returning Riders, led by the King. She saw the Elf Legolas and Gimli the Dwarf dismount from Arod near the rear of the group. Head bowed, the blonde handed the horse off to a servant and vanished. Her stomach flipped, a fear gnawing at her mind. "So few," she breathed, "so few of you have returned."  
  
Theoden would not meet his niece's gaze. He had no heart to speak of Aragorn, of one he sensed that Eowyn cherished. "We have lost many men this day," he spoke while helping one of the guard down from his horse. "We must prepare now, for the battle ahead." Theoden moved away then, berating his own cowardice.  
  
She watched her King walk away from her, and didn't notice the Dwarf till he stood beside her. "My Lady." His voice caught, and even half hidden by his beard she could see his stricken expression. His eyes shone.  
  
"Lord Aragorn, where is he?" She dreaded the answer she already felt. Around her the world seemed to spin, fading away into a grey din. She blinked back tears. The sounds of Helm's Deep dimmed and faded in her ears.   
  
"He fell," Gimli choked out. "From the cliffs." Blood rushed into her head, screaming in her ears and she felt dizzy and lightheaded. She spun, her skirts swirling around her and she fled away from the gates, tripping up the stairs as she ran. Her vision was obscured by tears. Her flight led her up to the Keep, back to the cavernous room where the horses were kept. A guard was ahead of her, leading two horses.   
  
One was Hasufel, the mount given to Aragorn by Eomer. The chestnut had a deep, wide gash across one shoulder. Dark blood, congealed into his hair, marred his glossy hide. The tall gelding limped with every step and blood had leached down his entire leg. The sight of him brought a new flooding of tears. Her shoulders shook as Eowyn took the geldings' reins from the guard. He blew a breath out in her hand. The horse sighed, pressing his forehead into her chest, eyes half closed.   
  
"My lady?" Dani touched her arm, breaking Eowyn from her thoughts. The blonde woman started. Tears swept the dust of travel from her cheeks, leaving fair tracks beneath her eyes. Standing at the stable girl's shoulder stood her own horse, unrestrained by lead or halter. Dani looked from Hasufel to her friend and her stomach clenched. "Aragorn?"  
  
"He fell," she sobbed. Eowyn covered her face with her hands. Her grief would not be stayed nor her tears dammed. Dani embraced her, not knowing what else to do. After a few minutes the shaking of her shoulders slackened. Hasufel lipped at her golden tresses. The Lady of the Mark smiled sadly then, laying one hand on the gelding's nose and swiping at her eyes with the other. Dani took a step back. "Such foolishness. Here I stand beside myself when there are those that might yet be saved. I must go to the men and do what I may."  
  
She held up a hand to halt the protests that lined Danuriel's lips. "Nay. I will be fine. Filling my mind with other thoughts will stem this hurt for a time. Worry not for me, but now I must go. Will you take Hasufel?"  
  
"Of course," Dani bowed her head in obedience. Eowyn left then, striding purposefully back out of the Keep. Her face, which had been so full of pain just a moment before, was now a stoic mask. Dani watched her till she receded from view, then led the gelding forward, clucking her tongue. He followed haltingly, Dani's bay ambling at his side.  
  
Hasufel drank gratefully the bucket of water laid before him, draining it. His ears flicked with each swallow. He sighed when she undid his girth. Her left arm, injured by the Warg, protested sharply when she lifted her arms to drag off the heavy saddle from the chestnut's back. The skin stretched, parting the wound and she hissed. The stab of pain nearly made her drop the saddle, but she gritted her teeth and set it down on its stand.   
  
"You are injured." She had not heard the Elf enter the chamber, and his proclamation made her jump. Keen blue eyes glared at her accusingly. Gimli stood just behind him, studying Aragorn's horse sadly.  
  
"Must you always do that?" she snapped.  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"That," she shook a finger at him, "that soundless approaching thing that you do! It is all well and good for battle and surprising ones enemies, but it reeks havoc upon my nerves. Must you always be so.........so..." she searched for the word.  
  
"Insufferably elfish?" Gimli supplied helpfully.   
  
"Exactly!"   
  
Legolas shot them both a withering glare. "Do not attempt to sway my attention. Your arm, you are injured."  
  
Dani turned, keeping her wounded arm on the far side of the Elf. In truth she had barely noticed the injury till she'd dismounted, and by then the blood had soaked through the dull red of her shirt and congealed, forming something of a bandage. Now however, it had opened again, and she felt a warm trickle of blood slide down her arm. "There are others far more grievously injured than myself. It is no more than a scratch."  
  
"That," he said with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, "is hardly the point." Moving with lightning quickness he grasped her wrist, steering her to a nearby stool. Dani hissed and swatted at his hand when he pulled the fabric of her shirt back away from the gash. She attempted to pull her arm from his grasp, to no avail. Legolas' mouth quirked. "A scratch?" The slice of the claw was a good three or four inches long and half an inch deep at least.   
  
"Never said it wasn't a bad scratch," she muttered darkly.  
  
"Stop fidgeting," Legolas ordered as he surveyed the gash.  
  
"Then stop poking me!" She returned irately.  
  
Gimli laughed, drawing their attention. "The two of you are a wondrous source of amusement. You are both stubborn beyond imagine. Heads thicker than stone you both have."  
  
"Come now Master Dwarf," Dani chastised, a gleam coming to her eye, "surely my head is nowhere near as thick as his."   
  
"Wonderful," Legolas said, half to himself, "now I am gifted with two thorns to my side. Gimli, don't help. You Danuriel, just.........just stay." The blonde Elf left as quickly and silently as he'd come.   
  
As soon as he was gone from sight, Dani was back on her feet beside Hasufel. "Didn't he tell you to stay?" Gimli questioned, smiling thinly beneath his beard.  
  
"I am staying," she returned, digging through a pack by her feet. her hands returned triumphant, holding a small jar of ointment that she began to apply to the chestnut's shoulder. "I'm just not sitting."  
  
Gimli grunted. There were a few moments of silence then, before Gimli asked, "Will he mend?"  
  
She ran a hand down the sleek neck and gave the horse a conciliatory pat. "Ay, the wound has been cleansed by its own bleeding. He will heal, in time, though a scar to remember this day he shall always bare."  
  
"It is a day to remember, though not gladly." His tone was somber. "Now lass I beg you sit, should the Elf return an berate me for your stubbornness. I care not to listen to his mutterings."  
  
"I will not faint if that it your concern."  
  
"It is not, I concern only to spare my ears."  
  
"A poor liar you make Gimli, son of Gloin. This," she gestured to her arm, "stitched by its own blood would too heal on its own. Such a bother over such a small thing."  
  
"Ay, but nevertheless allow him to fuss. He grieves, his mind is restless and idle hands do not suit his manner."  
  
She sat heavily on the stool again. "You are a good friend to him Gimli."  
  
He grunted. "You are mistaken." He was gruff, but the words seemed weak even to himself.   
  
A figure appeared in the doorway. Eorman stood, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. A small cut cleaved his cheek, but aside from that he stood unscathed. Gimli watched the tightening of Dani's face. "I'll now take my leave of you milady, and leave you to your counsels." With a curt nod to Eorman at the door he left.  
  
Eorman's eyes were fixed upon her. "You did not look for me when the Riders returned." There was accusation behind the words, bubbling anger. "Instead I found you here, carousing with those whom I forbid you to speak. They are treacherous Danuriel. Already they turn you against me."  
  
Dani cried out, exasperated. "They turn me against nothing but this growing black tide! Their presence has inspired me to fight, for us all to fight. How can you not see the good in their coming? They have warned us, allowed us to prepare for the coming evil. I am blind and still I see it!"  
  
Eorman fisted his hand before her face. "They have led us here, bottled us for the slaughter. They are quick, very quick to turn us away from those we have long trusted. Saruman has been friend to Rohan for years before the White Rider came. Does this mean nothing?"  
  
"His friendship was an illusion. Saruman poisoned Theoden's mind."   
  
"Did he?" Eorman's gray eyes narrowed. "How do we know which Theoden is himself? Perhaps Gandalf placed some new trickery upon him, some spell of his own to send us to ruin. I feel we are brought here to death and would leave with all haste, but first implore you to come with me."  
  
"You would run? You would leave your people on the eve of battle?"  
  
"I would run from what will surely be my end, and yours. You are too quick to trust my love. Come, we will ride to Isengard and form allegiance with Saruman, our ally. I will not stand behind this company."  
  
"Does the fact that I believe them mean nothing to you?"  
  
The burly man smiled, touching her cheek with his thumb. "You are too kind Dani, too soft. You do not see the truth. I do not blame you for it. But I love you, and wish to deliver you from harm. Come with me, end this foolishness."  
  
"Blame me? I am some wispy maiden who picks flowers while the men tarry in the fields. If you cannot trust me, then you do not love me."  
  
"But I do. What be your answer?"  
  
She swallowed the lump that had been forming in her throat. "I do not yet know my answer."  
  
"Then I will return when you have had time to consider."   
  
--  
  
Legolas came back a few minutes after Eorman had gone. He balanced a basin, some bandages and a small jar. He set them down at her feet, placing half the bandages in the bowl of clean water. Dani's bay sniffed at the offerings curiously.  
  
"There is nothing for you here," she told him, laying a hand upon his side. "Go on now." The bay snorted as if giving answer and moved away, though he always kept one ear trained to the woman and Elf.   
  
"He follows you like a dog," Legolas marveled.  
  
"He is the last colt by Valhuriel and thus he is Legacy. He was breech at birth and his dam did not survive. I helped save him, raise him. His sire died protecting me. We are bound to each other."  
  
Legolas nodded. Squeezing some water from the bandages he set to work cleaning her arm. "Sit still at least if not silent," he implored. His hands were cool against her skin, his touch unnaturally light.   
  
She gnawed edgily on her lower lip for a while, and neither spoke. Finally the silence became too much and she blurted out, "Eowyn came to me with ill news." Legolas paused, stiffening slightly, and his guilty thought flooded back to the forefront of his mind. "I am sorry Legolas."  
  
He dropped the now bloodied bandage into the basin. "He fell from the cliffs during the attack," he confirmed. He applied a thin layer of salve to the wound before wrapping it. "Athelas, from Aragorn's pack," he explained. "It would be better if given from his hand, but works well enough from mine."   
  
"My lady will grieve for him."  
  
His thoughts wandered to the crystal pendent in his pocket. He did not relish the thought of delivering Arwen news of her love's demise. "She will not be the only one. Though still, I hold a sliver of a chance for him." It was a foolish, reckless wish, but one he clung to dearly.  
  
"You do not believe him lost?"  
  
"My heart would tell me not to despair, that Estel is not yet gone from us. But my mind seeks to steel me for the battle ahead without him."  
  
"You do not believe we have a chance."  
  
"There is always a chance," he said bitterly.  
  
Eorman's words played in her mind. "You could still leave, if you find us so hopeless. Nothing ties you here."  
  
Blue eyes glared sharply. "My heart ties me here. Full of a promise to a man I consider a brother. Estel would stay, would fight. He is a great champion of lost causes. And so long as I live and breathe I will not give up."  
  
"The price of your loyalty might be your life."  
  
"It is a high price," he agreed, nodding. "But sometimes, even a high price is worth what is gotten in return."  
  
"And the return?"  
  
He shrugged. "A chance maybe, if not for ourselves than for others. A chance for Estel to rally the race of men behind him, or for two, dear to me, who travel alone in dangerous times. A chance for the people of Rohan to prove their worth. We may never know the hope borne of our actions."  
  
"We need hope. The people here cling to the smallest thread of it, for a chance, for the sight of a new dawn. We are lost without it."  
  
He straightened, lifting his chin. "We are not finished yet. By the will of the Valar, Estel will return before the battle sweeps us."  
  
Dani's head tilted. "He has many names, does he not? He is Strider the Ranger, heir of Elendil, Lord Aragorn, yet this name Estel only you have called him. It is strange to me."  
  
"Estel is the name given to him by the Elves. He was raised by the Lord of Rivendell," he explained. "Elrond. Not many know the name, fewer call him by it."  
  
"What does it mean?"  
  
Her own words replayed to him. /We are lost without it./ His shoulders sagged and a new weight bore down on his chest. Somber blue eyes lifted to meet her gaze. "Hope Dani." His voice was low and hollow. "It means hope."  
  
Chapter 5  
  
I know this chap had a lot of my OC in it, but it just came out that way I swear! I needed some more character development and allow for some things later on, so bear with me.   
  
By the way, I'm a review hound, please feed me. 


	6. 6

Chapter 6:  
  
A/N: Hehe, yes, this chapter continues on with my Elf angst. It strikes me, that as an Elf and a prince Legolas is both used to and puts upon himself high expectations. I'm hoping to capture that. To those who asked, no, not going to have a romance. Tempting perhaps, but the better part of me just doesn't see it happening. Nope, they're just friends.  
  
OK, on another note, I've been really enjoying writing this, and the characters. I've got another story brewing in the back of my head, dealing with a much younger Aragorn and Legolas. Hmmm, must finish this one first though.  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own any of them, only the ones who Tolkein didn't write.  
  
~*~  
  
Legolas finished tying the bandage around Dani's arm. His hands dropped to his thighs and his gaze lingered on the floor, his mind wandering. Estel was hope, the embodiment of it, and indeed a champion of lost causes. The truth weighed heavily upon him. The men of Rohan needed someone to lead, and Theoden, for all his years in rule had no conception of the evil that would storm his Keep. It would be unrelenting, and would not, as the King had predicted, be so easily thwarted by the protection of the fortress. The Uruk-hai were no meager force, and the sheer number of men dwindled in comparison. But he, an Elf, an entity apart from man, could not possibly rally them all as could the Dunadan.   
  
Suddenly the Elf's eyes lost their focus. The stone floor beneath his sight rippled. The muscle of his thigh beneath his palm trembled against his bidding. Legolas started slightly, the move barely perceptible and gave a small shake of his head. The moment had passes, and the still gray stone lay quiet again.  
  
"Are you well Legolas?" Dani's question further broke him from his reverie. "You seem………pale." Her brow knit. "If it is that an Elf can be pale."  
  
Legolas stood and fixed her with a comforting gaze. "Nay Dani, I am well. Hope dwindles, but is not gone. Aragorn will return to us, and the men will follow him. My hope lies in that. Farewell for a time; I go now to prepare." -Prepare, and think,- he said inwardly. He walked soundlessly through the back of the cave, toward the stores and where the women and children would stay.  
  
Dani watched him go. "And my hope lies in the trust you place in this man. May your faith and your strength guide us all," she whispered.  
  
--  
  
Legolas walked swiftly back through the caves. A sharp pain pierced his side and unbeknownst to him Saruman's infliction swelled. To those that saw him, his gait was swift and sure, but the Elf's own mind felt differently. The cloud was creeping up on him again, lingering in the rear of his head. His eyes swam. As much as he detested caves in general, these back labyrinths offered a solace like no other and it called to him. His hands trembled at his sides.  
  
He moved past the horse chambers, past where men and women lay stores, even past where the last torch had been lit. All the while his agony increased. The pain in his side had spread over his entire abdomen and he was nauseous. The call of one of the Rohirrim guard went unheeded as the Elf staggered further into the dark bowels of the Deep.   
  
His sight and mind blurred. The floor seemed to roll and pitch beneath his feet. Cold sweat broke out on his brow. He stopped in a dark chamber. The voices of the people still reached his keen ears, but surrounded by thick walls of stone on all sides, they were muffled and seemed very far away. He laid one hand on the cold, wet stone, leaning into the wall. He squeezed shut his eyes.  
  
He could not weaken now, when the battle loomed. He must stand and fight to the last. It was what was expected of him, what he expected of himself. "but I am weak," he murmured to himself. "Weak. Was that relief at the cliffs, to be free of my final burden? How can that be, when Aragorn has stood by me many times? Now I am weighed by guilt. I remain here, but I despair for these people. I am measured, and lacking."  
  
The dim flickering of a lone torch around the corner, cast weak light and illuminated unnaturally pale features. Unknown to him, the scar Saruman had laid on him grew, black tentacles creeping across his stomach and back beneath his skin.   
  
"What curse is this that the Valar has placed upon me?" he wondered aloud. His guilt gnawed at him. "It is in payment for my treacherous mind. So then bring on me the worst there is, for I deserve no better for my disloyalty, my cowardice."  
  
The first evil black tendril reached the small, hidden jewel laid on the Elf's chest. The mithril backed stone flared, constricting his chest and stealing his breath. A roaring in his ears all but deafened him. His eyes rolled back into his head. His knees buckled, sending him crashing down.   
  
Collapsed on the floor his eyes snapped open, rolling forward again, gleaming dark and deadly. Then the muscles in his back spasmed and his eyes reverted to a crystalline blue. He sucked in a breath just before he wretched. He choked on the dark, viscous liquid that spilled from his lips onto the ground. His throat burned and he detested the foul, acrid taste on his tongue.   
  
Face drawn and strained, he wiped at his mouth with a trembling hand. "Penance," he whispered. The darkness swallowed him and he lay quiet, unmoving. He lay for hours, as his body fought the pain and poison, till everything drifted away and all he heard was the beating of his own heart.  
  
--  
  
The night passed quietly, with no sign or sight of anything approaching Helm's Deep. Theoden rested in small chambers, but never once at peace. He was too old, their numbers too few. He would defend his people to his last breath, but feared that his days were numbered.  
  
Eowyn woke often in the night, mind plagued by dark dreams. Three times she had woken in blind panic, her heart racing, as she imagined watching Aragorn fall. Each time she was standing near to him, useless as the battle raged around her. Dani lay not far away, laying on her side, her injured arm curled over her stomach.   
  
Gimli slept outside, back pressed against the wall, after he'd taken a watch. He wondered briefly over Legolas' whereabouts, but not for long. The Elf had often disappeared while in Lorien, only to reappear later with no explanation. True, at times he had taken Gimli with him, but he would not begrudge the other a few hours of solitude if he so desired them.   
  
Meanwhile, Aragorn rode deliberately through the night toward the fortress. Brego was true as his name, carrying him without fail, even when the strength of the Ranger waned and wavered. It was nearing the dawn, when he caught sight of Saruman's monstrous black army marching steadily into Rohan, that he pushed the horse to a faster gait. He had to reach Helm's Deep and warn Theoden, to muster their strength and prepare, for war.  
  
--  
  
The sun was but a flicker in the East when Eorman found Dani in the stable chamber. He watched from the doorway as she moved between the animals, checking their legs and offering each a swallow of water. She took no notice of the man watching her greedily. Finally he spoke, making her jump, his voice low. "Have you come to a decision?"  
  
She nearly dropped the bucket she'd been holding, sloshing water on the hem of her skirts. She lowered the bucket, regarding him silently, her head cocked slightly to the left. Her mind had not rested all night as she'd considered her position. Eorman was a man possessed of much bravery, and yet stricken by hopelessness. Could she go with him, and so callously toss aside her people, her home? Even if it meant life beyond this day, she realized then what she must do.  
  
"Yes," she said nodding.  
  
Eorman's eyes lit. "You will come? Let us fly then, and we will reach Orthanc on the morrow."  
  
She held up her hands, quieting him. "Eorman wait. I have reached a decision, but it is not the one you seek." She stepped aside, revealing behind her Eorman's horse, already saddled. "If you are to go, he is ready."  
  
His face fell. He strode over to the girl, stooping slightly to meet her eyes. "You would stay? Stay to die?"  
  
"I would stay to fight for what I believe, for what I love. I will not flee, and see the fields of my life lost to darkness. I may not do much for our cause, but it will be something."  
  
"You do not love me." The realization hit him squarely. "I could give us a good life Danuriel, if you would only come. Love me now you may not, but perhaps, in some later day………" his voice trailed off when he saw her shaking her head. "What is it that you would ask of me then, to prove myself to you?"  
  
"I ask you to stay Eorman, to fight. Your people need you."  
  
Gray eyes turned cold and his mouth curled. "I will not die for a people who follow a feeble, corrupted man calling himself King. You all go to your deaths. I will not participate in this folly."  
  
"Do not blaspheme the name Theoden," she growled. "I'm sorry for the hurt I cause you now, but I will not suffer you to sully those I consider family. It pains me that you will not stay, but I must follow my heart Eorman, and it does not lie with you."  
  
The warrior seethed. He grasped her upper arm in a vice grip, and new blood pricked the bandage that bound it. She shrank back, suddenly fearing the man before her as she had never done. "You will see all you love decimated Danuriel, before your life is gone. I will make it my purpose." He shoved her back onto the floor. Still in a rage, he launched himself onto his horse's back and spurred him forward. She did not expect to see him again.  
  
--  
  
Aragorn crested the last hill on his ride. He drew Brego back and looked upon the Deep. He saw, much to his surprise, a man riding toward him at full gallop. The roan's eyes were wide and wild, the man hunched low over the animal's neck, pressing for speed. They flew by, disturbing the air and causing a breeze. Perhaps Theoden had changed his mind, sending a rider for aid. His brow furrowed, but he went the wrong way, towards Isengard. They would find no aid there. Exhausted and more than a little confused, he continued on to the fortress.  
  
Atop the wall a young guard stood watch. He recognized Theodred's Brego from a distance, but knew not who the horse carried. They had released him as a rogue, and never had expected him to come back bearing a rider. Knowing that this at least, was no evil tiding, he rushed from his station, calling to all. "A rider!!! Brego comes and bears a rider!"  
  
The call rolled down through the rows of the fortress and milling people. Excited murmuring turned the once quiet Deep into a clamoring din. Legolas had been dozing when the sound of shouting reached him. His eyes, that had been half closed, sharpened and he pushed himself off the ground. He stood, grimacing at the sharp pounding that emanated from his temples. He'd been little more than an elfling the last time he'd had such a headache, after he'd drunk far too much of Thranduil's elvish wine.   
  
He straightened, giving a small shake of his head. His memory of the last night was intact, but vague and seemed very far from him. He touched light fingers to his lips and they came away clean. His sight was normal and his body felt as always. "Evil dreams," he muttered. Then, spurred on by continuous happy cries, he made his way back out of the caves.   
  
He came out into the horses' chamber. Dani knelt on the far side of Hasufel, out of the Elf's immediate line of sight. Looking between the gelding's legs, she saw him enter and was about to all to him, hen her voice caught in her throat. She sucked in a breath. The sight of him made her blood run chill. He walked, shrouded by shadows all his own. His face was dark, eyes pitted. Dani blinked, shook her head and looked again. Legolas as she knew him had returned, blonde and fair, but the chill had taken her and she did not call to him.  
  
Meanwhile, Aragorn had ridden through the gates of the fortress. He slumped forward, slithering off the bay. Brego stood still as stone by the Ranger's side. Gimli pushed his way through the throng of people, barely believing what his eyes saw. "Aragorn! Why you are the canniest, the luckiest man!" The Dawrf was overcome, mouth split into a wide smile. Aragorn smiled tiredly down at his friend, but did not stay long. He still needed to warn Theoden of the coming army.  
  
Araogorn walked swiftly towards the chambers of Theoden King, lost in his own thoughts. He very nearly walked into the person that stood in his way. Silver flecked eyes raised. Legolas looked upon his friend in silent awe, though inwardly his heart sang. ~You are late,~ he announced plainly in the grey tongue. Aragorn grunted, one corner of his mouth quirking. A dim smile played on Legolas' lips though he managed to keep a straight face. "You look terrible." The two old friends grinned, clapping hands down on each others' shoulders.   
  
Eowyn had sighted Aragorn and Legolas only moments ago. Her pale face lit and she did not quite believe the sight of the man before her. She blinked, but when she opened her eyes there he stood. She almost ran over to him, but stemmed the impulse, waiting instead for the friends to finish their conversation, for she'd been witness to Legolas' misery. However, only a moment later her elation fled, when she saw Legolas reveal Aragorn's crystal pendent.  
  
The Ranger's solemn face eased into something resembling relief. He squeezed the Elf's shoulder, reverently placing the pendent back around his neck. Eowyn faltered. This time was not for her. She turned her back on the men. She would find him later. With a heavy heart she returned to tend her people.  
  
--  
  
"The Deeping wall is strong," Theoden argued later with Aragorn. "No force has ever breached the Keep. They will break upon these walls like a wave. How many are there? How many come?"  
  
"Ten thousand at least, my Lord," he answered with a small shake of his head. He alone had seen the force Saruman had mustered. It would be no small matter to dispel them, and Theoden seemed to only want to deny what he surely had to know, that the Uruk-hai would come, and keep coming, till all were dead.   
  
"We can last many days behind these walls. Villages may be rebuilt our crops resown. Let them come."  
  
All the weariness had gathered on the Ranger, wearing his patience thin. He cried out, "They do not come to raid your villages and burn your fields. They come to destroy Rohan's people, down to the last woman and child!"  
  
"And what would you have me do?"  
  
"You must send out Riders, call for aid."  
  
"And who would answer? Elves? Dwarves?" he cast a hard glance at the Ranger's companions, trailing just behind the two men. "We are not so lucky in our friends as you."  
  
"Gondor will answer," Strider pushed, vehement.  
  
"Gondor? Where was Gondor when our people were run from their homes? Where was Gondor when the Westfall fell? Where was Gon………" the King's voice tapered as he thought of his son. "No. We are alone." The King turned to one of the guard.   
  
"Send every man and boy able to wield a sword to the armory. It will not be long now."  
  
--  
  
A couple of hours later the three companions strode for the armory. Eowyn came from the opposite direction, Dani on her heels, looking harried. Aragorn held up his hands, gently gripping her shoulders. "My lady."  
  
"Theoden has ordered me into the caves!" She cried disbelievingly. "I am to remain with the women and children!" her disdain for the order seeped from every fiber of her.  
  
"It is an honorable charge," Aragorn tried to placeate her.  
  
"But I can fight! Let me stand by your side this night, and prove my worth. Speak with Theoden on my behalf." Eowyn implored him.   
  
"Eowyn," he spoke quietly. "A time may come for valor without renown. Your people will need someone to lead them."  
  
Legolas, Gimli and Dani stood apart from the arguing pair. Dani took a step away from the Elf. She couldn't help herself. The figure that had stalked through the stables earlier had given her a deep scare she could not seem to shake, though now the Elf looked as fair and kind as always. Gimli spoke first, while Legolas watched her, puzzled. "How do you fare lass?"  
  
"I am frightened, I am not shamed to admit it. But I suppose I fare as well I may, considering."   
  
"And your arm?" Legolas interjected. He had spotted the blood upon the bandage. He reached out, but Dani backed away, wary.   
  
"It mends," she replied crisply.  
  
"I have heard that Eorman rode from here this morning," the Elf pressed. "Will he return?"  
  
Dani sighed. "No, he is gone. Our parting………it did not come well, and he left with ominous words."  
  
"Will you remain in the caves with the others?" Gimli sensed the subject was a sore one, and let it be.   
  
"I am to remain with the horses, so unless great ill befalls and they breach the Keep I will be far from harm. Now I must go. May we earn victory and all of us survive this night." Shooting a last, nervous glance at the Elf she left.  
  
"What was all that?" Gimli asked.  
  
Legolas' eyebrows shot skyward. "I know not."  
  
Meanwhile, Eowyn beseeched Aragorn once more. "They," she pointed to Legolas and Gimli, "would not be parted from you. They would stand beside you, because they believe in you, because they love you." She searched his face for any reaction, but there was nothing. "Please."  
  
"It is not in my power to command it." She said not another word. Head bowed, she walked away. Aragorn watched her go, unable to express how torn he felt. Then he went for the armory, the conversation riding heavy on his heart.  
  
Legolas stayed close. "You must rest Aragorn," he implored, frustrated with his friend. "You are no good to us half alive." The Ranger ignored him and went overlooking the dispensing of arms. If he stopped now he would surely drop. "Stubborn fool of a man," he growled.  
  
"Look at them," Gimli nodded at the men. "These are no warriors. Most have seen too many winters." He watched a feeble old man grasp a bow with quaking hands.  
  
"Or too few." Legolas ached, watching a small boy grasp a sword in two hands. His helm, chinked and old, fell down over his eyes. Suddenly, it all became too much. They went to war, but not victory. They were cursed by darkness from the East, and a foolish old man with too much pride. He feared, feared that he would have to watch his friends be felled that night. He'd lost Aragorn once already, and was not prepared to lose him again so soon. "They are scared," he said darkly. Voices in the armory stilled. "I can see it in their eyes."  
  
Aragorn whirled, teeth clenched, as anger bubbled in his chest. It prompted the Elf to change his tongue to Elvish. ~And they should be! Three hundred, against ten thousand? They will all die!~  
  
"Then I will die as one of them!" he bellowed. He stalked past the Elf, out of the armory. It had been many, many days since he'd argued with Legolas. It was still unsettling.   
  
The outburst had surprised the Elf almost as much as the Ranger. His mind reeled as he watched Aragorn leave. He would have gone after him, Gimli restrained. "Let him go lad. Let him go."  
  
--  
  
Saruman stood in Orthanc, a slow smile spreading over gaunt features. At first, seeing that the Ranger had not died as he'd hoped, Saruman had been thrown into a range. Had Wormtongue been anywhere within reach he would have slain him. But as it was, his plans were not yet spoiled. The jewel of Sauron was working as he had planned, slowly leaching doubt and despair into the mind of the immortal. Dissention among them was a good sign for him. And the night that crept up would offer him an ideal opportunity.  
  
IN the dark, and chaos of battle, it would be easy to kill Aragorn. The Elf was weakening under the power of the stone. His mind was far easier to enter than it had been the first time, and he could remain, lurking in the back of the prince's mind without him knowing. For now he was content to remain, watching.   
  
--  
  
Dark clouds rolled over the Fortress. A few hours after their argument in the armory, Legolas had sought Aragorn out to apologize. The Ranger had seen the apology coming when Legolas handed him his sword. Words were not necessary, though Legolas spoke them anyway. It was good to leave it behind them. The elves arrived a little after, and sight of Haldir and his bowmen gifted the men of Rohan with new vigor.  
  
Men and elves lined the Deeping Wall and up above in the Keep. Bows were strung and restrung, the weight and balance of swords checked. The women and children had been pushed deep into the mountain side, and there waited with baited breath.  
  
Legolas moved off from the others. A doubt had been niggling at his conscious all day, and he wished to stem it before the battle fell. His dreams from the night before, his dark words to Aragorn and the reaction Dani had had upon sight of him. Something was amiss, and he had to know. He went quickly up the stairs and back to the stable chamber. Dani moved away from Legacy's side. "Legolas? What are you………"  
  
"Dani, be silent, for I have precious little time. For days now I have been plagued by dark thoughts and dreams. Today I sensed your fear at the sight of me."  
  
"Now? You wonder about this now?"  
  
"I must know. What is it Dani, that suddenly brings you to fear me?"  
  
"I do not fear you Legolas, only whatever darkness may compel you. I saw you earlier, coming from the caves. You carried with you a shadow, and your eyes burned black like the Dark Lord's they say."  
  
Miles away, in the tower of Isengard, Saruman grew concerned. His eyes narrowed to slits, brow knit together. This would not do at all. The wizard was not sure how exactly this girl could see what no others could, what he had worked so hard to conceal. An idea bloomed. Now was the time to test his hold over the Elf. His head slipped back.  
  
At Helm's Deep, Legolas turned from Dani. I wail assaulted his ears and the black cloud overtook him. His right hand slipped between the folds of his tunic. "And if I told you no darkness held me?"  
  
"Than I would say that you lie, or that you do not feel what I see." The Elf's head fell, shoulders slumping down, and he slowly turned. "Legolas," she went to him, if only to soften the blow of her words. "What I saw, it was for but a moment, but inspired such fear I have never known. I know not what else to say, and if I be wrong than my apologies."  
  
The prince grasped her shoulder with a slender hand. "Your eyes see much Danuriel." On her blind side he raised the dagger. His hair obscured his face. Then his head snapped up, eyes burning black as night. Dani gasped and tried to launch back, but his grip on her turned crushing and she reached for his wrist with both hands. He sneered. "Too much than is good for you."  
  
He thrust the knife at her side, wishing to slide it between her ribs. The Elf's face contorted, his eyes turning blue once more, but could not stay his hand. At the last moment he thrust the knife down, piercing the soft flesh above her hip in a shallow wound. Dani gasped as the dagger slid through her. She stumbled. "Legolas."  
  
His face was pained, horrified. Dani's weight slumped against his hand. "I'm sorry," he whispered. Then he was gone, and the darkness took him again. Furious at the Elf's continued ability to defy him, SAruman compelled him again. He brought the hilt of the dagger down near the base of the skull and let her fall, unconscious. He grasped her hair in one hand, dragging her to one of the stalls and leaving. The horses snorted, dancing away from him. "Now, Aragorn."  
  
Chapter 6  
  
Hehe, hope this was enough angst for you. I think Legolas is a strong character and what not easily fall to the will of another.   
  
Oh and as a side note, I apologize for my butchering of lines from the movie. I have not seen it in a long time, so I was going only by memory. Thanks, and please feed the review hound. 


	7. 7

Chapter 7  
  
A/N: Sorry this is taking me so long to get out, having rather massive writer's block issues at the moment. Thank you all so much for the reviews, I love 'em. Anyway, in this chapter I start to screw around with time and canon a bit, so I apologize to you that hate that, but bear with me because it just doesn't work if I don't.  
  
Disclaimer: I am not Tolkein, could never hope to be, but I do own the people he didn't think up.  
  
Oh, as a note, I refer to the Legolas controlled by Saruman as the Dark Elf/Legolas or some other name, and only refer to the 'real' Legolas as well, 'Legolas'.  
  
~*~  
  
Legolas watched, horrified, as his hand dealt a blow to Dani's head. He wanted to stop, to cry out, but his body would not heed his demands. Then, from himself he was pulled, his mind cast to darkness, and he fell away from the light of his own eyes.  
  
His conscious mind awoke later, in a cavernous hole shrouded by so thick a veil not even his elven eyes could pierce. It was a black place in his head, where only nightmares dwelled. So he remained idle in the dark, unaware of even his own hands. He had no will to move and there remained only pain and repression of thought. He had no hands, no form at all, only a weighted and dull sense of self. Thought he had, though naught else.  
  
Then, slowly, a pinprick of light grew before him. As it grew images formed and it seemed again he had eyes. He bore this new sight down and for him his mind constructed a hand, at first shimmering and translucent, until at last it was real enough before him. Imagined they might have been, but his mind created too the rest of his body.  
  
Legolas stood slowly on legs that were at once both real and not real. He peered out into the light. It was as if he stood at the bottom of Galadriel's mirror, looking up through it, though wreathed by flame it was and the images before him rippled. He saw Gimli swinging his axe, yelling something he could not hear, before an entire host of Uruk surrounded. Legolas reached slowly toward the vision with outstretched fingers and slowly the realization dawned on him that he gazed out from behind his own eyes.  
  
And though he could see the battle raging outside, he heard none of it. He heard not the bellowing Uruk or the cries of the leaders of men meant to bolster their charges, not even the sharp crash of steel against steel. There was only a faint and distant sound, like a low, fell voice upon a breeze. It stirred his temper and anger welled in his heart, for it was the voice that held him in this dark place. Legolas clenched his teeth. Saruman.  
  
His fingertips brushed over the barrier. A sharp sting ran through his fingers, and he yanked back his arm. His brow knitted. He'd been here before, somehow he knew had, and he'd broken free then. He would do it again. Corporeal form or not, the wall was real enough to the touch, and now he meant to shatter it. Saruman could not control his body, he would not allow it.   
  
He attacked the wall anew, throwing himself at the barricade, but the watery vision merely rippled and the barrier remained. Each strike of his fist sent a terrible pain through him. He pounded his fists into the wall, only to be struck back every time. Saruman's hold had grown stronger. He sank down to his knees, condemned to watch the battle rage and yet able to do nothing.   
  
Outside the Elf's body, an unending sea of Uruk assailed the Deeping Wall. Heavy, metal tipped ladders bit into the stone and the Uruk-hai streamed up and over. The small army of men and elves fought valiantly, but for each servant of Saruman slain, four more took its place. The stand of the Rohirrim was being overwhelmed by numbers if not skill. There was only so long their strength could hold, and the grey, drizzling eve was bleak indeed.   
  
The dark Elf moved purposefully through the swarming Uruk-hai. He felled one after another as they came at him. Saruman, from his perch in Orthanc smiled as the Dark Elf fulfilled his every command. Legolas' nagging, rebellious voice, which he could hear inside his own head had faded to a mere whisper. The Uruk-hai were numerous and the number the archer slay were of little consequence. Saruman allowed his servants to die, only because not doing so would have aroused suspicion, and the wizard was not quite ready to reveal himself.   
  
The Uruk themselves did not look long upon the Dark Elf's visage, and if they did, did not comprehend what they saw. Spurred on by blood, whatever logic they may have possessed was laid aside. If they had so much as a thought on it, their weapons may have been stayed, for they themselves were creatures of the dark, and would have seen the true nature of Saruman's minion. Their dark eyes could pierce the blue eyed veil all others saw, and see the fire burning black beneath.  
  
The Dark Legolas trod onward, nimble fingers flying to notch arrow after arrow, even at close range. Twice only was he forced to draw one of his pearl handled blades. He stood upon the wall, watching rapt as Saruman's army came. There seemed no end to this night, no end to those that assaulted them. In Orthanc, Saruman sensed victory approaching.   
  
Aragorn spared a moment and a sweeping gaze for his friends. Gimli's size, in the rain and dark, aided him. He was thick and built low to the ground, and it was easy for him to bowl over the unsuspecting Uruk, that simply looked over top his head. His blows with his axe were swift and sure, driving those that bore the white hand down ferociously. Theoden stood at the forefront of his men, his sword singing in the air. And Aragorn saw in him, for the first time his heart, proud, unwavering and valiant, the heart of a King. His men, even those the farmers and farriers and smiths from the villages, would not waver.  
  
Just then Aragorn saw him. He was sprinting toward the wall, torch in hand. All the others stepped aside to let him through. He wore no armor, carried no weapon, just the brightly burning torch in the dead of night. Aragorn's chest tightened. "Legolas!!" he cried out, knowing the Elf could hear him. "Legolas shoot! Bring him down!" He pointed out over the wall.  
  
His eyes found the Elf from Mirkwood, whose bow was drawn and aimed. Yet he waited, paused, and Aragorn did not understand it. This was not a time for indecision. "Shoot!" He implored again. Something seemed to flicker over his friend's face. He released his arrow. It sailed, straight and true, piercing the flesh above the Uruk's clavicle.   
  
Aragorn's silver flecked eyes shot wide. He'd missed. Legolas, legendary archer of Middle Earth, had missed. "Again!" The Ranger's eyes were wise beyond years, but they did not see what was most desperate. He could not see what the Uruk might have seen, the black breath of Sauron lingering, nor the pitted eyes that Dani had witnessed earlier. The Elf was as he always was, yet not, because he had missed. His heart pounded and breath stilled as the archer prepared to shoot again. The movements to Aragorn seemed painfully slow.  
  
The blonde archer's face contorted as if in physical pain. He drew another arrow and notched it, but it seemed to the Ranger that his hand wavered, if only for a moment. The second arrow flew. It too struck the agent of Saruman, but it was not enough to fell him. The Uruk leapt forward into the small breach of the wall where the pool drained.   
  
The explosion was deafening. All those who witnessed it shrank back at the power of such wizardry. Stone, Uruk and men flew through the sky together as the wall was decimated. Aragorn himself was thrust off the rock and felt like someone had grabbed him from behind and pulled. The sounds of the battle and the storm were dulled behind the ringing in his ears. He landed hard on the ground, his head snapping to the earth. Darkness crept upon his sight and he lay still.  
  
--  
  
"Aragorn!!!!" Legolas mind cried in anguish. Not again, please not again. He struggled to his feet, enraged as he sensed Saruman's satisfaction. Twice now, twice Aragorn had come to harm and he had done NOTHING to prevent it. Nay even, this time the fault was his own. Legolas felt the urge to curl in upon himself, to vanish. Nothing Saruman could do to his body could equal the pain he felt. Nothing in his life could have prepared him for this pain, of idleness, of futility.   
  
So the Elf watched, hands resting upon the barrier, barely noting the sting. The wall was breached. The night dragged on and the end was near, he could sense it. Hope had all but fled. And he remained riveted, watching.   
  
--  
  
Aragorn lifted his head slowly, ignoring the ache in his body. His sword remained gripped in his palm, one small comfort at least. Aragorn drew his feet beneath him and lurched upward, barely allowed a single breath before a new horde of orcs reached him. He allowed a single glance at the now demolished wall before his attentions were diverted. It lay in ruin, bodies of men and Uruk lying beneath the rubble. He had been lucky to have been blown clear.   
  
Gimli had been near to him on the wall when it had exploded. He did not see the Dwarf among those rising from the debris. He thought for a moment that he heard him though, swearing loudly in Dwarvish, but he could not swear it.   
  
Aragorn thrust his sword into the chest of an oncoming beast. It protruded through the monster's back, and the blood spilled down over the hilt and slicked the Ranger's grasp. The creature's body had sucked in at the blade and Aragorn had to work to retrieve it. Luckily, all around him men still fought and he was for a time, unencumbered by foes. As he pushed the Uruk off his blade, his eyes lifted back to the wall.   
  
Blue eyes stared back at him and he drew at last an easy breath. Legolas still lived. With barely so much as a glance, the archer dispelled two more agents of Saruman, stabbing one and flipping the second back over the wall. Not once did his sight stray from the Ranger. In the next moment however, all easiness fled him, when he realized that Legolas had lifted his bow, and it was aimed straight for his heart.  
  
--  
  
Eowyn moved silently toward the front chambers of the mountain hold. It had been hours since they'd had any word of the battle. Idle restlessness had driven her first to quiet mutterings, then to pacing. It was like torture, sitting, waiting, even as she issued placations to her people. Wives and mothers wept quietly in corners, shielding their faces and though they were all together, they all felt alone.  
  
So then, hours into the night Eowyn crept away. She'd left to check on Dani, or so she'd told the others. She could not fight, Theoden had set that decree, but she had to know, had to see. She moved quickly through the tunnels, her sword clasped in her hand.   
  
The horse chamber was the last before the Hornburg. The dark, steep sides of the tunnel, smoothed by years of dripping condensation, opened out into the vast chamber. Torches burned between each of the straight stalls, and the horses gleamed beneath the weak light. Their eyes seemed to flicker and they watched her warily. It was eerily still.  
  
"Dani?" Eowyn called softly. There was no answer. "Dani?" Still receiving no word, Eowyn lifted her blade. On the far side of the chamber she spotted Legacy. The bay stallion stood with his head low. The two feet of rope attached to his halter dangled near the ground and his ears flicked forward and back. He turned his head to Eowyn once, nickered, then went back to staring at the ground.   
  
The Lady of Rohan approached slowly, sliding her hand up the horse's shoulder. Eowyn's heart sank when she saw her friend lying prone in the straw. The golden blonde hair on the left side of her head was matted down with blood, staining pale skin. The wound on her side oozed. Her eyes were shut as if she slept and her breaths were shallow. Eowyn knelt beside the other woman.  
  
Long, slender fingers brushed the hair away from Dani's face. The Lady of Rohan could feel the breath of the stallion behind her. Her fingers probed the wound on Dani's head and there was a new surge of blood as she prodded the enflamed flesh. The stable hand did not stir.  
  
Eowyn moved quickly after that. She left Dani where she lay, knowing that it would take more than her strength alone to move her. Slinging a horse blanket over the fallen, she left Legacy with a pat and promise of her return. Then she trotted back across the chamber, sword held at the ready, for whatever had befallen her friend, she could not be sure the threat was gone.   
  
Eowyn gathered two of the stronger woman and led them back through to the front chambers. Both were scared and held close to one another, frightened to be moving toward an unnamed threat. But love they held for their Lady, and it was enough that she stood beside them, and it made them more brave than they might have been. Together they lifted the prone figure out of the stall and back into the cavern. New red blood dripped to the cold stone as the moved haltingly along the corridors.   
  
"There," Eowyn pointed to a small stack of blankets tucked away in a corner. "Lay her there. Nalurie, we need bandages." The hunched, older woman hurried off. The blonde Lady of Rohan left the fallen stable hand briefly, cutting cobwebs away from the dark places of the caves. She laid the sticky tendrils beside Dani on the blanket and cut away the cloth from her side.  
  
"Spider webs my Lady?" Nalurie asked when she came back, handing off clean bandages.  
  
"Yes, they will help stop the bleeding." Eowyn ran a hand through long blonde locks and knelt beside her friend. She laid her sword down, cradling Dani's head while trying to avoid the head wound. "Help is come," she assured the other woman quietly. "I will not let you fall away from this place."  
  
--  
  
Aragorn's eyes widened, his face froze. Unbidden, his hands dropped to his sides and all sounds around him dimmed. The Elf had not fired, but nor had his aim wavered. The blonde squinted, face contorted and his blue eyes were laced with pain.   
  
Then, suddenly his arm seemed to jerk. Blue eyes left those of the Ranger, lifting sharply. He loosed his arrow. Aragorn winced despite himself, his eyes shutting reflexively. From the wall the blonde nodded to him once. There was a grunt behind him, and a thud. The ranger whirled, sucking in a breath. Behind him an Uruk sank into the mud, still gurgling from where an arrow protruded from his throat.  
  
Aragorn looked back to the wall, but the Elf no longer stood watching him. He had killed another dark agent, and was presently flying down a set of steps on the Uruk's shield, shooting as he went. Aragorn's mouth quirked. 'Show off,' he thought. He was not long able to ponder his friend's curious actions, as at that moment a call rang for retreat into the Keep. He could not see the new mustering of Orcs at the base of the stone bridge, shields hefted above their heads. Aragorn moved swiftly back to the stone tower. They had precious little time now.  
  
--  
  
Saruman stumbled backwards in his chamber. A small trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. Well, he hadn't been expecting that. The will of the Elf, that for many hours had lain almost idle, was not so beaten as he had believed. As he had sighted in on Aragorn with the bow, a new surge of defiance had welled, sudden, unexpected, and strong. The strike of the Elf's will had been like a thunderclap beside his ear, and for a brief moment his concentration had been broken, sparing the Ranger's life.   
  
The man's propensity for living through mortal situations was becoming an annoyance. Twas no matter though. The upstart Elf had used too much of his waning strength to defy Saruman again. The next time there would be no hesitation, and the Ranger would not be so lucky.  
  
The white wizard watched as the Elves, Dwarf and men of Rohan fled back to their cave. There they sought protection, strong walls to fortify. It was there, bottlenecked in the cave, that they would find their demise. They were trapped, there would be no escape.  
  
The first rays of sunlight peeked out over the horizon. Unseen by the wizard a man rode up to the gates of Isengard. Where once the lane had been bright and lined on all sides by tall trees, was now a barren, dry wasteland. The tall spire in the center stood dark and ominous, a warning to all. Fires flickered from deep pits and the tower was surrounded by a never-ending dusk, and the air was foul as death. Even the breeze offered no reprieve from the long ride, as it stole hot and dry over him, leaving him parched.   
  
His horse, a roan, stood wearily on trembling legs. His sides heaved, stained with dried sweat. He'd been run past his limits through an afternoon and a night. Only once had his man allowed him to stop for a drink, and even then for only a moment. Every time his pace had slackened the lash had been brought down on him. Now, standing at the entrance to Isengard, the smell of Orcs and Uruk-hai assaulted his nose and despite terrible weariness he balked.   
  
Eorman's eyes flicked uneasily to his right, only too aware of how the orc stared. Men Saruman had left to guard the gates, and these were they that came up to meet him, swords drawn and a bow aimed at him from afar. He dropped his reins, holding his hands up defensively. "I come as an ally of the White Wizard," he declared. "I seek with him council. Will you bring me to him?"  
  
One of the guard took hold of the horse's bridle, twisting the bit. Eorman waited, fighting to quell the anxiety in his chest. The dark men spoke quietly among themselves. Finally the group parted and one nodded. Still holding his horse's head, Eorman was led inside and down the path toward the tall black tower.   
  
Wormtongue met the guard at the tower bottom. Throwing back the great doors he glared at the rider of Rohan. His nose wrinkled in an ugly sneer, his pale, oily face cold and cruel. Here, in the shadow of his master Saruman, the pathetic, simpering little man did not cower from the warrior. Instead he said haughtily, "What brings you slithering on your belly to the door of Saruman Rohirrim? Has the great King's head been left yet upon a stake? So hence you came to save your own worthless life?"  
  
Eorman's temper welled and his lips thinned. He did not take kindly to being talked down upon, especially not by Grima Wormtongue, but he held his tongue. "Theoden was alive ere I left him, though I know not of him now." His mind wandered then, and in his mind he saw Dani, turning him away. His voice hardened. "And I care not whether any of them live or die. Bring me to Saruman, Grima."   
  
Saruman's serpent smiled then. He turned on his heel and strode up the tall winding steps of the tower. Saruman's chamber was closed and Wormtongue bid the rider from Rohan to wait, but Eorman would not. The broad man flung apart the doors and stalked inside. The wizard wheeled, leveling his staff at the chest of the man, furious that his concentration had again been disrupted. Far away at Helm's Deep, a blonde elf stumbled in the darkness of the caves, a shimmering barrier in his mind falling away.  
  
Saruman's voice boomed, echoing up through the tower. "What insolence is this? Who dares to enter here?"  
  
Eorman bowed his head and lowered himself to one knee. "I am Eorman my Lord, formerly of the Rohirrim, now humble servant to Saruman."  
  
This, at least, caught the wizard's interest. He had not been expecting Theoden's men to turn from their King, aside from the spineless Grima anyway. But this man was not without strength, and with him held a warrior's air. "What guarantee do I have that you are not some spy of the enemy? That you do not come here seeking to destroy me from within? However fruitless that plan may be."  
  
"I am no spy," Eorman said. "I would here lay my sword at your feet and swear piety to you in these times of war."  
  
"You are not loyal to your people?"  
  
"My people are too easily swayed. They ride to a needless death and abandon Rohan's long friendship with Isengard. Theoden pushes you aside rashly, while embracing a rabble of outsiders. In such times my loyalty is to myself, for I wish to stand on the side of victory. I have been forsaken, and so forsake them. I can bring others who think as I do, strong men to fight on the side of Saruman."  
  
"It is an interesting proposition. How quickly and how many a force could you gather?"  
  
"With a fresh horse and a week I could gather a thousand men. A small number I realize, but a force that would not arouse the suspicion that would orcs. A force to strike fast and hard at your opposition. But my Lord, is there some better way to ride from Isengard? My path was nearly blocked by the forest's edge, and I have no desire to enter Fangorn. I did not realize its borders came so close to your walls."  
  
Saruman glanced sharply at the man. "What did you say?"  
  
"The forest, it nearly blocked my way to the gates. The trees pressed upon me as though they had some foul intent of their own, to seize me from my saddle as I passed." Saruman did not respond, but hurried out of the chamber to the balcony overlooking Isengard. Somewhere in the distance someone shrieked and there was a crash.   
  
"Your offer may have come too late," Saruman muttered. Eorman and Grima stood behind him, staring in wonder and horror at the sight of the forest overtaking the walls. The forest had woken. The march of the Ents had begun.  
  
--  
  
Aragorn, Theoden, Legolas and the other Rohirrim rode out that same morning. The coming of Gandalf, Eomer, and the other riders was the salvation of Rohan. They swept down upon the Uruk like a wave, Gandalf a shining light in the front of the Riders. Aragorn's heart sailed at the sight of them at the crest of the hill. The night, which had seemed so hopeless had dawned a day victorious.   
  
The Uruks fled under the new company's assault. They dashed up the hill, away from the riders, and few took notice of the new line of trees that blocked their path. The Uruks were consumed by the shadows beneath the branches. A high wail sent a chill through all the riders and the trees dipped and shook. None of the Uruk were seen again.  
  
The day ended with both joy and sorrow. Women and children flooded from the caves, searching for loved ones, sons and husbands. Soldiers stacked bodies of the dead outside the Deeping wall, the foul stench of Uruk bodies laid upon one another rising in the warmth of the new day. Inside the wall men and elves were laid down with reverence, their arms cross over their breasts. The sorrow of those that had lost struck hard, but such joy was in victory could not be outdone.   
  
They left the next day, two droves moving in opposite directions. Eowyn and many riders took the path for Edoras. With them went the women and townsmen, and the injured. Dani still had not woken and her face was unnaturally pale. Legacy, for his part, drew the cart on which she laid quietly, no small feat for the hot blooded mount of a warrior.   
  
Aragorn rode beside Theoden astride Brego. Two imposing white stallions flanked the bay on either side, Theoden to the left and Gandalf to the right. Eomer, Legolas and Gimli rode just behind. Gimli was doing as he had promised, educating Eomer of the beauty of the Lady of the Wood. The drawf's eyes sparkled when he spoke of her and Eomer could not help but believe the words, and suddenly his heart filled with the desire to witness such beauty.   
  
Legolas was quiet and not untroubled. Though his eyes remained riveted forward and his hands never left the reins, his mind wandered afar. News of Dani had deeply disturbed him, for he remembered her words to him at their last meeting. What dark thing had she seen in him that he could not feel? His sense of foreboding grew the closer they rode to Orthanc and the quieter the elf became. He barely said anything at all, even when they came upon Merry and Pippin, gorging themselves on spoils from the guard house.   
  
His silence was not lost on Aragorn, but in the shadow cast by the tower was not the place for a conversation. Not when Saruman remained, stripped of most of his power, but not all. He made a note to speak with the elf upon their return to Edoras. Unseen by the riders, Saruman and his two minions watched them from above. Saruman's eyes were fixed upon the lean blonde. Gandalf was too quick to assume that Saruman's powers had failed him. He was still bound to the Elf, by blood, and by the stone of Sauron. As long as both lived on, his power was not gone from him. A slow, sinister smile spread over his features and he waited in the shadows till they rode away.  
  
--  
  
Edoras, upon their return, saw a celebration the likes of which had not been seen in generations. Merry and Pippin garnered themselves pints, and were soon seen and heard, dancing upon a table in the Golden Hall. Aragorn smiled at the hobbits' antics, and spotting Gandalf across the room, started towards the wizard. Out of the crowd came Eowyn, bearing a cup, which she held up to him.  
  
Aragorn felt a pull at his heart at the sight of her. Her eyes were fixed upon his face, her smile for him alone. This, he knew, was a woman worthy of love. But his? Arwen was gone, sailing for the Gray Havens where she would live evermore, and her memories of him and their love would dwindle and fade. She was gone and he, bidden to move forward with his life.   
  
His thick, rough fingers brushed hers as he took the cup from her. In that moment he knew. In another time, another life he might have been able to love Eowyn, but it was not this life. Arwen was gone, but not forgotten. His heart belonged to her alone, and would till the end of his days. He thanked her and the smile upon her face grew, and it hurt his heart, for he did not wish to see her come to despair. She moved past him then and he went on to find Gandalf.  
  
A few hours later most of the celebrators had dispersed to their rooms and to their loved ones. Exhaustion, which had long been stayed, settled upon them all. Eowyn went to one of the back rooms in the palace, where Dani and a few others lay while healers watched over them. Pippin, the youngest hobbit, and quite inquisitive it seemed, went with her. Eowyn went to find one of the healing women, leaving Pippin at Dani's bedside.  
  
The woman lay in a deep slumber upon the mattress. She had not woken once since Eowyn had found her. Her honey hair spread out around her head, a sunburst on the white pillow. A green blanket inlaid with gold was pulled up to just below her shoulders. Her face, so hardened by trials and time, seemed softened as she slept and her lips were not pressed thin. Her skin was pale as porcelain. Pippin stretched out a hand to touch the scar over her eye.   
  
The hobbit's fingers barely touched her skin. The woman stirred slightly beneath the touch and the hobbit fairly leapt backward. Pippin berated his cowardice and moved back to the cot, watching with wide eyes. He clambered up beside Dani, his face peering down at her. Dani's eyes opened slowly and her lips parted. The emerald green orb finally settled and focused on the visage hovering inches from her own. Her eyebrows shot up and she pressed herself further down onto her pillow.  
  
Pippin's face lit in a wide smile. He bounded from the cot crying out, "My lady!! My lady, she wakes!"  
  
"Say again Master Peregrin?" Dani had not the will to move her head, but the sound of Eowyn's voice stilled the drumming in her chest. She breathed deeply, shutting her eyes. Everything was all right, she knew this place. She was home.  
  
"Danuriel has woken, come and see!"  
  
Eowyn sat beside her friend, cupping the woman's cheek in her hand. Eowyn's eyes were glassy. Danuriel managed a feeble smile. "Strange are my dreams in Edoras," she began, her voice raspy and low. "In fact, I may be hallucinating. For a moment I was quite sure I was in bed with a very small man with exceptionally hairy feet."  
  
Eowyn chuckled softly. "It was no dream you had my dear friend." She motioned for Pippin to come forward.  
  
"A Halfling," Dani spoke in wonderment.  
  
"Peregrin Took of the Shire folk, Danuriel of Rohan. A hobbit I am." He introduced himself. "But most just call me Pippin."  
  
"And most just call me Dani. I am pleased to meet you Pippin of the Shire. Yours was a pleasant face to wake to. Much better than an Orc," she confided. The hobbit beamed.  
  
"Any waking is a good one Dani," Eowyn insisted. "I was starting to worry that you would not come back to us."  
  
"Me? Never. Can't be rid of me that easy. So then is it safe to assume we won the battle, since live and well we all seem."  
  
"Ai. We paid for our freedom with many lives, but many may now go on. Theoden survived, and kept his men in a spirit to fight. Eomer and Gandalf the White came as a blessing unto morning and a vision of them riding down the hills I am told, is an image that will not soon be forgotten. They came behind the White Rider in a blaze and smote our enemy. My Lord Aragorn lasted the night, as did his two companions, Gimli and the Elf Legolas."   
  
Dani's eyes, which had been drifting shut, snapped open upon mention of the Elf. They were panicked and desperate, and afraid. "Legolas." She tried to push herself off the bed, but Eowyn held down her shoulders and she was too weak to do more than flail a little. "Where is he?"  
  
"He is well," Eowyn tried to reassure her friend, but was no avail. "Settle Dani and I will send for him. He will be most glad to see that you are awake."  
  
"No!" The cry was so vehement that Eowyn pulled back, allowing Dani to sit up and swing her legs over the side of the cot. Her stitched side protested the sudden movement and the rush of blood from her head made her dizzy, but she still struggled to gain her feet. "You do not understand Eowyn! He is not well. The eye………it is on him………it burns in him."  
  
"Dani, Dani stop! Please. You must not struggle so, you will rip your side again. You need rest. It is in your head these dark dreams. Legolas is well I say."  
  
Dani shook her head, leaning heavily upon the Lady of Rohan. "You do not see. He is drowning. Where is he? Where is Aragorn? Go, someone and get the wizard, hurry!" Eowyn stood in front of her, blocking her path. But Pippin, from his vantage point behind them, saw the pain and truth in her face. He spun and dashed out, going to find Gandalf. Dani stilled, locking eyes with the shield maiden. "Eowyn," she made herself speak slowly, calmly, "it was Legolas that struck me, but I was not his target. He seeks the blood of Aragorn."   
  
--  
  
Aragorn found Legolas outside, wandering among the blossoming tombs. Aragorn was still many yards away when he stopped, having heard the man. "You did not join the celebration," the ranger observed.   
  
"Our victory was but a small one. The shadow still grows and thickens in the East. Bravery Sauron may now sense is not lost in all men, but it does not instill in him fear. Besides," the Elf amended, "I am not terribly fond of ale." Aragorn chuckled softly.  
  
"Any victory is a good one Legolas. It will inspire Theoden's men to hope. They will need it when the shadow comes. As for Ale, you elves are simply far too finicky." Legolas did not answer. The stone upon his chest was burning again, and was making him nauseous. The black tendrils were creeping ever closer to his heart. The light in his crystalline eyes dimmed and his mind felt sluggish. Aragorn noted the weariness in his friends step. "What is it?"  
  
The Elf turned, slowly raising his gaze to meet the ranger's. "I am afraid," he said quietly, almost a whisper. "Not of battle or war, but of myself. When last we spoke Dani told me she saw a darkness in me, in my eyes. I believe an ill has taken me, though I know neither what nor why."  
  
"Legolas………" Aragorn began to protest. Before he could speak any more however, the Elf's stomach heaved. The poison in his blood was taking him again. The land beneath his feet listed crazily and he stumbled to his knees. Memories flooded his mind's eye. He saw himself aiming for Aragorn, saw himself attacking Dani. Then he saw Saruman standing over him, his lips moving. "A bond," he gasped, "only the darkest eyes might see." His chest constricted and he fell onto his back, gasping for air. His eyes roved aimlessly. "The darkest eyes."  
  
Aragorn knelt beside his friend. He felt the Elf's heart hammering beneath his palm. "Legolas. Legolas, focus on my voice."  
  
The blonde archer grasped Aragorn's forearm in both hands. "Run mellon," he breathed. He could not fight Saruman's hold any longer. It was taking him.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Please run." The words had just barely passed his lips when he surged forward. Aragorn ripped his arm from the Elf's grasp and stumbled back. Blue eyes he had known for years no longer held any recognition as the elf drew one of his long knives. Aragorn barely had time to draw the curved blade the Lady of the Wood had gifted him before Legolas struck. The force of the blow, blade on blade, had driven him to the ground. The man's mind was spinning, but he had no time to think. Legolas was on him with all the strength and speed born of him, and Aragorn would be lucky to survive.  
  
Chapter 7  
  
Sorry this took so long to get out, it was just sort of an awkward chapter to write. Lots of little scenes and time to get through. Hope it makes sense though. Chapter 8 should, hopefully, be out a little faster. Feedback, as always is greatly appreciated and begged for. 


	8. 8

Chapter 8:  
  
A/N: Okay, I realize this has taken forever and a day to get chapter 8 out, but I hope you can all bear with me and enjoy. I'm thinking maybe another chapter or two before this story has run its course.   
  
Disclaimer: I only own the ones Tolkein didn't write.   
  
Aragorn rocked back on his heels as the Elf leapt at him. A strange expression of fury and hatred had possessed Legolas' face, twisting it hard and cold. The man moved back as quickly as he was able, stumbling slightly over rocks. He was off balance, reeling from the surprise of the attack. One of Legolas' pearl knives swept through the air just in front of Aragorn's face. The air rippled as the blade passed.  
  
Legolas kept pressing forward, intent on drawing blood. He drove his knife down in an overhead strike; one Aragorn barely managed to block in time. The force of the blow drove the ranger down, landing with a grnt on the rocky ground. Tucking his arms tight to his sides he rolled away and then up onto one knee as the Elf's blade sank into the ground where he had just lain. He drew his sword as he fended off the Elf's attack with the blade the Lady of the Wood had gifted him.   
  
Legolas drew his other sword, twirling the blade nimbly in his left hand. He thrust it forward straight at Aragorn's exposed throat. Aragorn didn't have time to ponder the questions that were flying through his mind, he only had time to react. The moment he blocked one advance another was upon him. It was a grim reminder of the strength and speed of elves, a thing he had taken for granted for years.   
  
Aragorn knew he had to get off his knees if he was to have a chance. He was the better swordsman, that he knew, but Legolas was no fool. He was well trained in all forms of combat, and knew Aragorn's fighting style. It would not be an easy victory, if a victory was to be had at all.  
  
He parried a strike to his left side with his short blade. Then he drove forward off one knee, attacking with a crescent swipe of his sword. The Elf jumped backward, avoiding the blow, and allowing Aragorn just enough time to regain his footing.   
  
The two combatants circled each other carefully, each carrying a blade in both hands. Aragorn's chest heaved, not from exhaustion, but the anticipation of another attack. Sweat slicked his brow and his hands readjusted their grip on his weapons. His eyes searched Legolas for any sign of familiarity, of doubt, but there was none. The elf before him was foreign to his eyes, a shell of Legolas only.   
  
"Mellon, why?"  
  
The elf's mouth curled in distaste. "I am not your friend." He dropped his left shoulder, keeping that blade low, the one in his right hand high, and came again. Aragorn swept the low blade away from him. Their blades crashed, sending sparks into the air. The muscles in Aragorn's arms cried out as they locked blade on blade. The ranger shoved the elf back and spun away from him, the steel of their swords screeching. He ducked as Legolas' knife moved to hack off his head. As he dropped he swept a foot out, catching the elf behind his knees. Lightning reflexes kept Legolas on his feet.   
  
Above the man and elf, on the ledge before the doors of Medulsed a small crowd had formed. Eowyn and Dani stood at the forefront. Dani bit her lower lip, as the shield maiden's grip on her upper arm dug deep into her flesh. "Eowyn," she said quietly, pulling away from the other woman's grasp. The blonde didn't respond, but her iron grip loosened slightly.   
  
The hobbit Merry came to stand beside Eowyn. Eomer rushed out of the palace, sword drawn, a small battalion of men behind him. "Where are they? The Halfling said Aragorn was being attacked. Where is the army of the Dark Lord?"  
  
"It is an army of one," Dani told him stiffly. She pointed down into the burial grounds, where man and elf fought between the funeral mounds. Eomer's eyes widened at the sight of the two friends locked in combat.  
  
"Surely this is some jest."  
  
"It is no jest," Dani assured him, lips pressed in a grim line.   
  
Eomer might have hurried down the palace's steps to Aragorn's aid, if not for Eowyn's restraining hand. "You must not break his concentration brother. If you do I fear it will be the end of him."  
  
"Surely you do not mean to simply stand aside!??"  
  
"I mean to wait for the White Rider."  
  
Their wait was mercifully short. Almost the moment the words passed Eowyn's lips Gandalf burst through the tall doors. Gimli and Pippin trailed close on his heels. White robes swirled angrily around the wizard's frame as he strode purposefully down the steps. He held his staff high, and the crystal in the tip blazed fiercely in the waning light. The rest of the onlookers fell into step some yards behind the wizard, yet none spoke, as they were all still entranced in the scene before them. It was a mortal dance, meant to spill blood, and the movements of the players transfixed them all.  
  
Neither swordsman paid the wizard any mind as he approached. Legolas struck, Aragorn parried. Aragorn advanced and Legolas defended. Gandalf raised the staff, gripping it in two hands, and leveled the crystal at the fighters. His bellow was like a thunderclap, and none in the crowd behind him could distinguish the words he spoke. He thrust the staff forward. There was a flash of brilliant light, and Aragorn and Legolas were thrown apart.  
  
Gandalf moved on the Elf, while Aragorn clambered to his feet. He sheathed his sword, wiping his brow. Legolas defiantly stared at the wizard. He tried to raise one of his knives, but it was as if his arm was laden with a dead weight. Gandalf swung his staff like a club, sweeping it down across the Elf's jaw. Legolas flew back, driven to the ground. Eomer and one of the other Eorlingas came forward, yanking the Elf to his feet to face Gandalf. The Elf twisted in their grasp, but between their strength and the will of Gandalf, he could do little. Aragorn and Gimli stood at either side of the White Rider. Gimli's face wandered from angered to betrayed. Aragorn just looked confused.  
  
"We were talking," Aragorn began, searching legolas's face. "He said he was afraid that some darkness was taking him."  
  
"It seems his fears were well founded," Gandalf responded.   
  
The ranger turned, searching the faces in the crowd. "You," he pointed to Dani. She shrank back beneath his gaze. "He said you saw a darkness growing in him. He told me to run, then he attacked me. I don't understand."   
  
Gandalf glanced back at the girl out of the corner of his eye. Wizened blue eyes narrowed. "Is this true?" Dani nodded stiffly. Tell me what you saw."  
  
Dani exchanged a quick glance with Eowyn, who nodded reassuringly. "It was only for a moment," she began breathlessly. "He came out from the caves. I swore then that he some dark version of himself, possessing of his own shadows. Then again later, just before the knife bit my side, I saw his eyes. Those eyes..." her voice trailed off.  
  
"And tell me Danuriel," Gandalf urged, "tell me what you now see."  
  
She took a few tentative steps forward toward wizard and elf. She stopped just in front of Aragorn, and the Ranger lay a steadying hand on her shoulder. Dani did not want to look up, did want to see the aberration of a face she had grown so quickly to trust and value. She blew out a long breath and forced herself to look up. For a moment she was relieved, seeing only a fair blonde elf before her. Then suddenly the image shifted, and all the world surrounding the Elf fell to shadow. Icy fingers seemed to grip her heart and steal her breath. His face was twisted and sallow.   
  
"That is not Legolas!" she cried. Eomer and Eowyn exchanged a puzzled glance. Quiet mutterings rippled through the gathered crowd. They only saw the Elf as they had known him, blue eyed and fair skinned as he had ever been. "There is stone and ice where there should be flesh and blood." Blue eyes receded into dark pits of eyes. The sight of fiery pupils burned her good eye and her hands flew to her face and she turned away from him. "It burns."  
  
"Gandalf?" Aragorn's voice was questioning.   
  
"He is being controlled, his mind possessed. I need drive out this evil, like to Theoden." He raised his staff again. "Let him go," he order the men holding him. Eomer and the other backed away quickly. Legolas' face twisted in a gruesome smile. "Release this body," his voice rumbled deep. He struck Legolas with the tip of his staff, driving the Elf to his knees, coughing violently. The black tendrils of Saruman's poison snaked up his back, round his chest and ever closer to his heart.   
  
The elf's shoulders began to shake. His chin was near his chest, hands limp at his sides. His hair fell down to cover his face. Gandalf struck him again, and the blonde's body jerked. His head jerked up, and he was laughing. "Fool," he snarled. "You can not banish me this easily." He reached up, grabbing the wizard's staff in both hands. Twin snares of darkness gripped his heart. Before the amazed and horrified crowd his eyes turned wholly black, devoid of any light.   
  
The crystal on Gandalf's staff flared brilliantly. The earth rumbled and shook beneath their feet. The gem cracked and a shockwave rolled through the air. Dani felt herself being flung into space. He shoulder connected solidly with someone else, who grunted. They both toppled, a heap of arms and legs. A few cries of pain and surprise emanated from the onlookers.   
  
It was Aragorn who first regained his senses. He rolled Dani off the top of him and turned onto his stomach, drawing his knees beneath him. He stood quickly, sword at the ready, though his free hand trembled by his side despite his best efforts. He shook his head once, clearing his head, and looked around. Dani's palms were still plastered to her face where she was curled on the ground. Eomer was helping Eowyn to her feet. To his right lay Gandalf, pale faced and still. He hurried to the wizard's side. A small wound marred his head at his browline, trickling blood down his temple. The Ranger was relieved at least, that he was breathing.  
  
It was then that Aragorn's eyes swept the hill for signs of Legolas. He was not there. Isildur's heir trotted quickly to the steps of the palace, casting his gaze down into the city. There he spotted his foe, moving quickly past the gates of the city. Below Edoras, Aragorn sighted in on a small troop of Orcs and Wargs, waiting. Legolas grasped the rein of a riderless Warg. He turned briefly, staring back up the hill.   
  
His eyes were the deepest black the ranger had ever seen, swallowing all the light near them. His skin was white as bone, and the pale flesh of his face was marred by black veins. Gray shadows arrested the circles beneath his eyes, and two black streaks erupted from each temple and stained his hair. Aragorn felt his heart sink, and the grip of his sword slackened. Then Legolas turned away, leapt onto the back of the waiting Warg, and they galloped off.  
  
Aragorn stood riveted, watching them till they were mere specs on the horizon. A large, calloused hand gripped his shoulder. "He's gone laddie," Gimli said sadly, "maybe in more ways than one. Come on, we'd best get back." Aragorn nodded tightly, sheathed his sword and turned to follow the Dwarf.  
  
Gandalf was roused and peering intently at the end of his staff, a shard of broken crystal in one hand. Eowyn stood beside him, grasping one elbow, but the wizard was paying her no mind. No mind either, to Theoden, whose arrival the ranger had not noticed. The wizard looked at Aragorn and help up the shard. "It is a powerful force that could shatter this."  
  
His reply was sullen. "It would have to be, to make Legolas turn like that. Gandalf what just happened?"  
  
"An evil has corrupted his heart. I felt it when he grasped my staff." He shook his head, and his voice was laden with sorrow. "He is a servant of Sauron now."  
  
"It cannot be," Aragorn spat.  
  
Gandlaf remained unfazed. "These events have many currents underlying. I feel there is a grave urgency to our task, now even more than before. We must discuss our plans for the morrow and the gathering of arms. Come and let us take council this eve." He strode purposefully past Aragorn and the others. Theoden fell in step beside him and Eowyn just behind. Aragorn sighed heavily and followed. The passed Eomer and Dani as they walked. The Rohirrim looked very serious, standing protectively by the girl. She was nodding occasionally in response to his words, but Aragorn could tell her mind was elsewhere. Her line of sight found his for a moment, and it waChapter 8:  
  
A/N: Okay, I realize this has taken forever and a day to get chapter 8 out, but I hope you can all bear with me and enjoy. I'm thinking maybe another chapter or two before this story has run its course.   
  
Disclaimer: I only own the ones Tolkein didn't write.   
  
Aragorn rocked back on his heels as the Elf leapt at him. A strange expression of fury and hatred had possessed Legolas' face, twisting it hard and cold. The man moved back as quickly as he was able, stumbling slightly over hard ride to Gondor."  
  
"We will follow as soon as we have gathered arms."  
  
"Good. Do not tarry any longer than necessary."  
  
"Gandalf.........Legolas." The wizard's eyebrows rose expectantly. "His words, just before.........he said he felt a darkness rising in him, that he was afraid of what he might do. And something about a bond, a bond only the darkest eyes might see. How could we have missed it?"   
  
"You said yourself, Legolas was very strong, his heart, his will. He probably battled this spell for days without even realizing. And it was such a spell, that everyone, aside from perhaps myself, would only have seen the Legolas they knew. And I'm afraid my attentions have been elsewhere as of late."  
  
Aragorn was racked with guilt. He had noticed something amiss with the elf. He'd noticed what felt like ages ago, but he'd dismissed the feeling time and again. "Then how is it Danuriel saw what we could not?"  
  
"I believe the words he spoke to you were part of the spell, and as such, the answer lies in the words. 'A bond only the darkest eyes might see.' Saruman, and I do think this is his sorcery, could not have accounted for our acquaintance here, or the flaw in his wording. There are some things lighted eyes may not see, and some things only dark eyes may bring to light.  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
Gandalf smiled thinly. "What eyes can be darker than those that are blind?"   
  
Hope welled suddenly in his chest. "Then perhaps she can help us, when we find Legolas. Perhaps her purpose is not yet finished."  
  
"Aragorn no, you must be reasonable. You must.........do.........what is reasonable, if it comes to that."  
  
The Dunedan's jaw tightened as he shook his head viciously. "Not that. Gandalf I cannot......... It is Legolas of whom you speak."  
  
"It is Legolas no longer, at least, not the Elf you knew. He has fallen to shadow."  
  
Aragorn sprang to his feet. "A shadow he may yet return from. You did."  
  
"My purpose was not yet completed." The wizard's voice was infuriatingly level.  
  
"And how can you be so certain that his is? Do not be so quick to dole out death and punishment. Didn't you say that once? Well I say it now." Aragorn strode for the door. "I won't."  
  
"This is what they were counting on. Sauron and Saruman placed this spell on him because they believed you would allow your friendship to cloud your judgment. They will send him for you, and he will have no hesitations about killing you, not now. I had no sense of Legolas outside, he slipped away before my very grasp. And if it comes to it, you must be prepared to kill him.  
  
Chapter 8  
  
Okay, hope this chapter goes over well. By all means tell me what you think. Thanks for reading. Feed the review hound please. 


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